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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | fu-gee-la (Refugee Camp rmx) |
Album: | The Score | Genres: | Hip-Hop |
Year: | | Length: | 264 sec |
Lyrics:
We used to be number 10, now we're permanent one In the battle lost my finger, Mic became my arm Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm Tell the woman be easy Naah squeeze the Charmin Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be born And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn Chicken George became Dead George stealin' chickens From my farm, damn, another dead pigeon If your mafiosos then I'm bringin' on Haitian Sicilians Nobody's shootin', my body's made of hand grenade Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissing a razor blade That sounds sick maybe one day I'll write a horror Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an ACURA Stevie Wonder sees Crack Babies Be-Coming Enemies Of their own families, what's going on? Armageddon come you know we soon done Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump A boy on the side of Babylon Trying to front like he's down with Mount Zion
1-Oooh La La La, It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang Oooh La La La, It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing
Yeah in saloons we drink Boone's and battle goons till high noon, Bust rap toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's. See hoochies pop coochies, for Gucci's and Lucci Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' Fugees. Hey Hey Hey Try to take the crew and we don't play play Say say say Like Paul McCartney, not hardly, ODD-ly enough I can see right through your bluff Niggas huff and they puff but they can't handle us, WE BUST Cause we fortified, I could never hide, seen 'Cooley High', Cried when Cochise died. I'm twisted, black-listed by some other negroes, Don't remove my Polos on the first episode. Ha Ha Ha Ha, You shouldn't diss refugees, and Ha Ha Ha Ha, You whole sound set's bootie , and Ha Ha Ha Ha, You have to respect JERSEY, cause I'm superfly when I'm super-high on the Fu-Gee-La.
(repeat 1)
I sit 90 degrees underneath palm trees, Smokin' beadies as I burn my calories, Brooklyn roof tops become Brooklyn tee-pees, Who that be, enemies, wanna see the death of me. From Hawaii to Hawthorne, I run marathons, like Buju Banton, I'm a true champion, like, Farakkhan reads his Daily Qu'ran it's a phenomenon, lyrics fast like Ramadan.
What's goin' on Armageddon come you know we soon done Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with Mount Zion.
(repeat 1 twice
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