Paroles Going Going Gone de Mike Capone

Textes et Paroles de Going Going Gone

I got this mother fucker locked from Los Angeles, to New York City
lit the grams and made that 7-27 on that 60
don't you come up in my zone and don't you come up in my home
I'm flippin this switch and I'm slipping this clip in and ripping your mother fucking dome got-damn man,
haters always set it off
and I'm a be the first dispersing more than words to get this off
my chest you second guess me, and you best believe I'm swinging
with that SLOPPY WHITE BOY MUSIC kind of head ringing
baybayyy I'm fuckin you up with this chronic and singing that
heyyy heyyy we keepin it movin up on you and bringing that
lately I'm adding these names to my hit list
cause people don't dance no more all they do is diss
but dissin' me is like just downright dogging the whole industry
them cats in Tenessee they know you, and you aint' no friend to me
pretend to be, these enemies they need to fucking lay low
to the curb...them words'll leave you dead in San Diego
I came close to catching them spokes but it was case-closed
erase those...collect the intent, and seen his face froze
and you know that I know just what you knew when he was swimming
with that shark, and them piranahs him, and his momma sayonara saying...

Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
and where we're going I don't know
and I don't care, and I'm not watching
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
I'm going...going...gone

So now I'm back up on the block dodging haters, pop-hookers and cops
I watch them spots for the knots cause they keep em' in stock
I'm leavin the ground without a sound no movement tacked to the wall
and if the dramas long distance fuck making a call
I'm hitting cross country flights just to get in a fist fight
with internet pussies now they begging to get right
cause I aint' playing games
and I aint' naming names
aint' letting no lames
gain a grain of my hard earned fame
now mutha fucka I don't really really think you know, I'll do my best to show you
don't be thinking cause I play this here piano, that I won't throw you
across the room, and straight the fuck up out that window, that's where you'll go soon
and buried in the cemetary with your kin-folks, and everybody who knows you
man it's gotta be a bitch in that ditch in that rut that you're stuck in
your mind can barely function, once you're brought up in discussion
that concussion lasts a week, and maybe then so will the stitches
I'm off into the city with yo bitch, and hitting switches saying...

Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
and where we're going I don't know
and I don't care, and I'm not watching
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
I'm going...going...gone

Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
and where we're going I don't know
and I don't care, and I'm not watching
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
I'm going...going...gone

going...going...gone...gone

Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
and where we're going I don't know
and I don't care, and I'm not watching
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
I'm going...going...gone

Hold up, hey
for my crackers that be thinkin I'm soft
I don't, play
fuck your mom until that ass falls off
Hold up, hey
for my crackers who be acting too bold
Take a, seat
fuck your momma in the next episode
Hey...I fuck your mom everday.

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