Fort Minor ft Styles Of Beyond - Bleach (Jimi remix) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Fort Minor ft Styles Of Beyond
• Bleach (Jimi remix)

Yo, swing the sword for the classic year?Bring the noise with your hands up,
slash and tear?Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air?
Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair?What's up stupid?
Shoot this?One five one in the shot glass, hot flash?
Banging on the drum, huh?We cause havoc down in Las Vegas?
Paper trails racing Pelican Brief-cases?
We outrageous, name the streets gave us?
Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers

I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber?
Thumbs up! another banger?Untuck the flamer, dumbfuck?
It's like getting hit with a dumptruck?Brains and guts?
Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff?
Get you cracked up like cocaine, heat 'em up?OK,
I'll let a sucka's fly once?Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch

Uh, malpractice, a bang-all jam?I joust rappers and track in the radar scans
Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons
Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh
Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem
Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon
What's up partna, I got ya (what, what)
Hope that spoken gunshots crack the pinata
Slap, box, mouth of backwash?
Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig?

Set the pace like a mustang, mashin'
Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash
Dropped on a blood-stained mattress
Stop, you ain't got access, watch
I'm'a change my asset, Ryu and Tak
You little cunts in the game, you can suck my cock
Lay flat on the ground don't make a peep
If you want the stains out now, get the bleach

Get the bleach

Guess who's got the rubber gloves and the bleach?
Guess who's rockin' every club, that's me
Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets
Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat
Guess who got the group name on top??
S.OB. got the rap thing locked
Who want what, when, why, and what not
Who got next up? Ryu and Tak

Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click
Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip
While the blood keeps gushing, relish and pink mustard, huh
I'mma slam 'till I tear it to bits 'til the bell for the recess rang
On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P.F. Changs
Hopscotch on the corpse 'till I drop the torch
And burn crews for their views that would rock with force
Saying, don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem
Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon
What's up y'all, we don't stall, come one, come all
'Til we drop the ball like

Get the bleach, get the bleach
Get the bleach, get the bleach
Get the bleach
...
Get the bleach (Yea)


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