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Mongolia Lyrics - Artist : Action Bronson
(He knows my name but my name is not my name
And you? To them you're only 'The Greek' And of course I'm not even Greek) Yeah Baklava, yeah Hologram, yeah Yo, it's Mister Forty Forty Dressed like I'm trash from naughty A young brother that'll stretch ya shorty (Damn) David Caruso couldn't connect the story (What's up?) Or solve the puzzle His favorite murder weapon was a shovel It's the jefe Spanish women all over my body like a machete, homes All I do is write these essay poems Let's get dusted at the Mets game, homes Like 16 Handles, catch me swirling in the left lane home I don't even got my left leg on Tryna dance tonight This ain't your language that I sing Wrapped up my hands in ice Me and my brother go together just like lamb and rice I eat African shrooms while rappin' on tombs Back in June when I clapped at your goon My car color blue waffle It's new and it's too awful The limo driver Rudolph ill, will off your new golf shoes Workin' on my birdie putt You heard me, slut Hurry up, curvy butt I need a bitch to go down on me I mean really go to town on me I mean really do a number on me (Suck that dick, bitch) Supplying elite, a few fiends died at my feet God dealt a bad hand off a half gram Feast the fam and give you a half Xan' And throw you in the Grand Canyon Yeah, uh, uh Meyhem doin' good, that's a rumor that I heard Wearin' diamonds, eatin' bluefin tuna They wanna test me like I'm Bradley Beal None of you motherfuckers real My nigga, pass the steel Mass appeal, mass production Mass destruction, crime, corruption Wine consumption On a private island, wildin' The sun threw shade 'cause it's jealous of my medallion Pitchin' and then compilin' Late nights like Jimmy Fallon Louis silk coupled with Nikes, picture me stylin' My life story is a open shirt outfit We gettin' money, kid, you niggas ain't about shit |
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