Letras
Yeah, Bronson (Nina Sky)
This my mothafuckin' game man
I don't give a fuck what nobody says no more
No more playing the sidelines (yeah)
Albanian style: rock leathers in the sand
I’ll shoot my cousin for
Nothing: dominant man
Go visit fam with no problems
- on some normal shit
Straight from Skopje, Macedonia
The floral lit
Licorice liquor, one cube, a touch of water
Watch it mix
Turn white like the Duchess' daughter
I’m in the corner puffing Ganja
With the musky odor
Destination back of your throat - cup of soda
Uh this is Bam Bam Bigelow
Queens to Asbury Park connect: Figaro
My uniform Carhartt sweats and
Gore-tex athletic horses on
My chest and on my short sets
The Leslie Nielsen of the weed and the words
This is Action Bronsolinni, 33 and the 3rd
Kid naked gun, the serial is scratched off
Armed like Rocket in his prime, blast off
On and on, push it through, we won
Never stop till the day we there
On and on, push it through, we won
Never stop till the day we there
Push your seat back the
Ricky Henderson of rap jets hat
Underneath a little blubber lie the 6 pack
Summer time I cop the musket
With the kick back
Then sit back, stand up, eyes low, hit that
This happens continuously throughout
The night now my eyes are like diamonds
That’s looking blue-ish in the light
Like a prism, shooting out hope, honor
And optimism
Never stop it till we're coastal
On the aqua mission
Reach my hand in the water and grab a tuna
Silhouette you see reflection of light
Right off the Mezzaluna
That’s a half moon, wavy like my man’s fade
The European carry-all color: tan, suede
Handmade, hand blades, carve
Up your features, i’m a creature