Our licensing agreement does not allow us to display these lyrics at this time. Sorry for the inconvenience.
(Instrumental)
Vertaling: Wag, Tom. Hang Down Your Head.
: (Instrumental)
he got to the door Chorus 2x [Lord Infamous] Nigga's up in the (..?..) wait till Lord Infamous kick in the door So just ever your way wipe the crest of your
an early Monday morning The sun is becoming bright on the land No one is watching as he comes a walking Two bulky suitcases hang from his hands He heads
ya' fat ass, 'cuz your wack son Dancing around like you think your Janet Jackson Thought you could walk on me to get some kinda' walk I'll pull a rug out from underneath your
m a killa Go off in your grilla In your pockets for ya bills Yeah, stackin' my change bag cheese, green and thangs Lettin' my nuts hang Jetttin' down
they rangin on yo block and yo brains like chillay [Verse 2: Soulja Boy] My chain too silly, my watch to dumb Only rapper on Myspace with more friends than Tom
he got to the door Chorus 2x [lord infamous] Nigga's up in the (..?..) wait till lord infamous kick in the door So just ever your way wipe the crest of your
person gets involved with these vermin making service calls? [GG:] "Can I call you by your first name, Tom?" Man, that ain't workin' *beep* Wait, hold
Ya Head, Sister Sledge War dance with the wild Apache Indian Get Tom machine gun, fast car, big engine Few squads for the back massage, head job Then
