• Title:Fugeela
  • Artist:Fugees
  • Album:
  • KaraokeRate:1★
  • Languages:
  • Remark:
  • Uploador:love_autolyric
  • TXT Lyric:

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    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 eday 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.
    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.
    Oooh La La La,
    It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
    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.
    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
    Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing