
I-Am-Mc-Lovin <Weadick_08>
| Fresh Prince of Bl-Air | 5/5/07 | ||
| In West Philadelfia born and raised On the playground where I spent most of my days Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school When a couple of guys said "we're up in no good" Started making trouble in my neighbourhood I got in one little fight and my mom got scared And said "you're moving with your aunt and uncle in Bel-Air" I whistled for a cab and when it came near the Licensplate said "Fresh" and had a dice in the mirror If anything I could say that this cab was rare But I thought now forget it, yo home to Bel-Air I pulled up to a house about seven or eight And I yelled to the cabby "Yo, home smell you later" Looked at my kingdom I was finally there To settle my throne as the prince of Bel-Air | |||
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| Podge and Roge one liners | 3/4/07 | ||
| I'm as sick as a small hospital I'm so hungry I'd eat a small child She had a face on her like a well slapped a*se Your' re as welcome as a f*rt in a spacesuit My mouth's as dry as a nun' s cr@ck He has rubber-lined pockets so he can steal soup He thinks manual labour is a Spanish musician As funny as a burning orphanage He's so camp, he shites tent pegs I'm as sick as a plane to Lourdes I feel like a boiled sh1te (hung-over) (when leaving) I'm off like a debs dress She had a face on her that would drive rats from a barn As busy as the Dalkey dole office Sweatin' like a paedophile in a Barney suit As tight as a nun's knickers I'm so horny I'd get up on the crack of dawn I'd crawl a million miles across broken glass to kiss the exhaust of the van that took her dirty knickers to the laundry. Up and down like a whore's knickers No show pony but would do for a ride around the house Did your mother find out who your father is yet? What would ye expect from a pig but a grunt I left her with a face like a painter' s radio A Mickey the size of a double-value can of Right Guard!! Jays us, she could breastfeed a cr� che As fit as a butcher's dog She ' s got more chins than a Chinese phone book Not even the tide would take her out Mother Teresa wouldn' t 't kiss her Daz wouldn't shift her Des Kelly wouldn't lay her A sniper wouldn't take her out Jays us, ya wouldn't ride her into battle If I'd a bag of bruised willies I wouldn't give her one She has a face on her like a bulldog that's just licked p*ss off a nettle She wouldn't get a kick in a stampede She had a f@nny like a badly packed kebab If I'd a garden full of Mickey' s I wouldn't let her look over the wall | |||
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