The Weathermen - Slick Talkin' lyrics

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The Weathermen - Slick Talkin' lyrics

(Verse One - Tame One) As we go on a take It's on it's on Yeah J-Zone in the Mighty-Mi in the Tame One up in the Yeh, yeh...yeh Dark-skinned Christopher Walken, slick Talkin' Out in Brix flossin', t-shirt ripped often Wrapped around my head like it's a turban Drinkin' Hennessey bourbon Cursin' all over the clean version Middle fingers up in my flicks Ballin' out like I'm one of the Knicks Razor blades under my kicks Pretty much Down to fill up a dutch Comin' through in the clutch Those that's feelin' me This is for us Destruction tin blockers And tag on gym lockers Multiple pill poppers That dream to k** coppers Tame's to spit that gangsta sh** It's like when banks get hit I'm bringin' tanks and sh** I got a street team full of weed fiends that'll merk ya So controversial I pay 'em off with the purple Shoot to k** hooterville section, still reppin' it 'Till the coffin's signed with my last will and testament Hot ta def with pasta breath A mix of half-dime of goodie with some rasta ses God bless anybody who stress my next written One of the best spittin' you soft like wet kittens My peeps on one-duece, might bubble your goose Continue, wait with 2 thirty-eights up under their suits And then they come up on another one in case they ?far-nosed? My P-P-P-people like black Sopranos And you a big p**y, so how you gonna rap? When I kidnap to wack you, tie you up to a statue Toss you in the Pa**aic River, bustin' at you Your beef ain't even real like White Castle's