't wanna baby that looks like that I don't wanna baby that looks like that Body, I'm not an animal Body, an abortion Body, I'm not an animal Body, I
Превод: Sex Pistols. Органи.
fuck the fucking brat She don't wanna baby that looks like that I don't wanna baby that looks like that Body I'm not an animal Body an abortion Body
click, I'm a sex pistol My love should be illegal Real deal, baby I'm no counterfeit, click, click Line 'em up, knock 'em down My looks can kill E O E O My body
in love, baby (in love, baby) I wonder if I take you home Would you still be in love, baby (in love, baby) Girl, you know you got me, got me With your pistol
get down? They gon' whistle, every body part is official When that ass wit chu, got my dick hard as a missle Don't hop on top 'cuz I ride around with a pistol
, don't let it slide, do or die, you an I, slide by, catch them niggaz off my side, wit nothin to hide body die rot, on they porch, when I expectin
click, I'm a sex pistol My love should be illegal Real deal, baby I'm no counterfeit Click, click Line 'em up, knock 'em down If looks can kill, E O E O My body
pistols Walkin' contradiction like Quiet Noise No words, eyes blurred with my diamonds pores Four karats in these ears make you call your boys While I'm surrounded by bitches with guns and sex
whips on the Interstate, we dash on the cops It's them dudes, drug slingers, 1-6, ooh Crime figure, rhyme spitter, his gun spit too Call 'em Sex Pistols
money Get money Get money Get money You wanna sip mo' on my living room flo' Play Nintendo with cease a Leo Pick up my phone say "Poppa not home" Sex
for my kids, six karats, I'm a whiz Exotic tokin' parrots on my wrist It ain't shit but for sex, money, and drugs True thugs with slugs and wrap bodies
I gotta feel with it. I got a musket and a pint of musketeil, when they find you they be like what's the smell? Take him took his top off, pistol pistol
you as Killa Kali The state of California niggas call it Killa Kali Murder weapons in the river bodies found in the alleys Bring the yellow tape, body
the sonic volcanic cap that the butcher have attached to his dead mother now this material might walk with a twitch and live for the twisted shit images of *boy scouts* getting pistol
em dominoes We clutching four-fours, and emptying holes through ya body and frame And I leave the witness sick so theres nobody to name We was all in the game sex
