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salaam remi & joell ortiz - box talk lyrics
[intro]
box talk
box talk
let this sh-t go around once
you nah’ mean? let it do its due diligence
check (yaowa)
[verse]
i should get my liquor license, i’m just out here with bars
lied when i said i’m from mars, i’m actually from far, another quasar
but hey, y’all, let’s not go awol
i’m built for every war
no metaphor said before can describe sh-t like this
slight twitch, i might just
go in the booth and turn up every mic switch
to frequencies of high pitch
communicate with the beat ’til you take a defeat
i’ll rupaul you in your hood, drag your name through the streets
nothin’ sweet, catch diabetes seizures staring at heat
that i keep up under the fleece stuffed with london geese
ovengold turkey and cheese, bag of funyuns, jeez
can a n-gg- eat what he wanna eat?
i ain’t s-xy, i’m street
f-ck b-tches with my timbs on my feet
and a toothpick in my teeth while we listen to sheek
i tried to f-ck cherokee, she just ain’t get in the jeep
when it come to digging these freaks
i p-ss out and p-ss gas
basically i do this sh-t in my sleep
the p-ssy good, you get a kiss on the cheek
and then a kiss on the cheek
back to business went from rags to riches
got rich and threw the rag back on my head after the bread, let’s get it
i blame brooklyn for the vulgar talk and shoulder walk
watch them cars, drive-bys is like a motor sport
shout out to my downtown n-gg-s who literally hold the fort
might slight over to barclays and parlay
at 40/40 with the .40 on me, i know the security
my jewelry ain’t too gaudy, but n-gg-s is corny
sometimes you got make examples and add to your story
every legend that i know went through to h-ll to get glory
i want the delorean parked near my 740
i’m stressed, jogging in the park at like 7:40
my oldest son said he s-xing his shorty
told him i don’t want no episodes of maury
cover your ortiz up
and don’t be laying up with fourteen sl-ts
with fifteen hundred dollar b-tts from dr, be smart
but if he anything like me, he’ll be a f-cking r-t-rd
you know the apple never falls too far
i f-cked every apple bottom that came too close
oh, this the second time you came? you gross
i got a love-hate relationship with squirters
i love to see it happen, hate i gotta change the curtains
and my comforter, but some of ’em is worth it, wet
[outro]
box talk
box talk
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