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06 September, 2007

Ik ben toch meer een billenman

Je komt op MonoBrow voor je dagelijkse portie fashion, muziek, literatuur, sneakers, robots, Japanse shit, games, toys en gadgets. (edit: Ok. Ik zie dat woord 'gadgets' nu weer staan en ik haat het.) In no particular order.

En vanaf vandaag hang je hier ook voor eh, borsten. Hele. Grote. Borsten. Toch? Hallo? Ben je daar nog?


markus said...

[pharoahe monch]
Get the fuck up!
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)
Queens is in the back sippin gnac, yall wassup?
Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)
Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties
New york city gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty

[lady luck]
Yo shut the fuck up!
Luck said shut the fuck up!
Bitches in the back, like crack get it cut up
I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up
Act like a man and get cocked, smacked or fucked up
Pull the truck up, luck you know the name
Assed out in the bleachers stay shittin on the game
I suppose what youre spittin is flames, cowards
Know your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder
Summers eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like dru hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now thats ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now thats real

[pharoahe monch]
What the fucks goin on here, just a minute now, hold up
Sinister wit hit the time I diminish him finish him, roll up
When im, ? cinematography state of mind
My rap trip, rip, clip, say the rhyme
Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches venacular
Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the immaculate
Binaca blast nigga thats fast, son Ill box ya
Ladies rub the ta-tas, bras, titties and knockers on the floor
Owww! fellas pull ya cock out
On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out
Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers
Dust crush competition, lights out like the clapper
The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave
Separate him from him from his fam, he dont know how to behave
Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot
Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute
Thats seven shots for tupac
Seven for biggie smalls
Seven for freaky tah up in your neighborhood malls
Hows that, fat action packed rap remain tame
Pharoahe fuckin monch, aint a damn thing changed

Yo yo get the fuck up
Funk doctor spot said get the fuck up
I got a bitch named nina and I tuck her
I leave a nigga hangin like ya moms muffler
Snuff her, then my boys follow up
Respect like the fonze, you see the collar up
I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up
I kamikaze ya town off a arab bus
Karat cut, yeah mami pull over
I bend ya pussy like for years I knew yoga
Im too smoked up, I cant remember me
Off hennesy, thats why I carry mini-me
I need fifty feet when my performance starts
I push a armored car wit ? lauren harts?
Nineteen inches, Im not on the charts
Doc turnin dark off a warning shot
Drive off and pop, six in ya hood
[monch] fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods
Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme you fold over
Im hot-headed cuz I walk wit cold shoulders
Yeah get the fuck up!

[pharoahe monch]
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

Jersey in the back jackin cars now wassup!
Girls, rub on ya titties
(yeah) thats right I said it, rub on ya titties
Brick city gritty committee
Pity the fool that act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

[method man]
Yo yo get the fuck up
Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck up
Walk through shaolin after dark, you get stuck up
Seek and destroy, baddest boy when Im puffed up
Ya know my name, and pharoahe moch, why we came what?
We off the chain, plus we plottin on the chain, what?
Know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
And you and your mic can ease on down the road
Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one
Shootin in the sky tryin to blast sun
Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a passion
Mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashion
Your plaid, Im stripes, together we be flashin
Heres a tunnel banger
Wu-tang death penalty, the gas chamber
This gon hurt me more than it hurts you
Slap ya like the doctor the day your momma birthed you
Just so you can feel me
The same way ima feel this world when it kill me
Even if time stands still, ima still be
Underground and filthy, gotta have our way like the milky
Innocent until Im proven guilty
Never got caught in the game of tag
Momma never kept a boyfriend wit kids this bad
No justice, raider ruckus!
Underground till we under ground
But yall first mothafuckers!

[shabaam sahdeeq]
My thugs, throw up ya set
And shorties rub on ya breasts
Get the fuck up, outta that dress, I palm tits
You herbs get flipped like jeeps on mountain cliffs
Ill rip through your chest, hollow-point talent tips
Double-s, double the threat, double your bet
Double up on that cash if you decide to invest
You sound like big, you sound like jay, you sound like d
And I bet, when I go plat, youll sound like me
Shabaam sahdeeq, injure your fleet into delete
Yall crabs are weak, frail like a fiends physique
I stay on the street, stay on the beat, stay wit the heat
Stay stickin fools like you for the rocks that gleam
So toss that link, dummy, shoulda insured that link
Straight to canal Ill praise that link, then pawn that link
You froze up, sahdeeq says shut the fuck up!
Punk niggas get gun-butt up and tied up

[busta rhymes]
Busta rhymes is like hacksaw jim dugan
Been thuggin, lovin the way we flood jewels for nothin
Lay it over, another ambush we take over
Yo we dont only get money, we cut the coke and cook the shake over
You better guard your head right, especially if its late at night
Or find your picture of your autoposy up on the web site
Yo if you ever violate my space
Fuck a fat lip, Ill leave you wit a fuckin fat face
Nigga, busta rhymes the handsome, Ill hold you for ransom ansom
Like the ghost in a haunted house, Ill forever live in a mansion
Bitches, snitches comin out and you know whos showin it
Like when british civil servants pass secrets to the soviets
Yall niggas is seemless blends of seemless friends
Live on about ? ? on a bunch of seamless ends
Collosal, me and my nigga pharoahe moncho
The head honcho, gettin this money like leonardo (do do do)
Enough substance in the roughness
Now watch it come around in an amazing large abundance
Now let me clear the smoke screen you blow fiend
Live nigga shit thatll rebuild your whole self-esteem
Pledge allegiance to the flag of united live niggas of america
Let us control and own the fuckin area
Wildin in your whip until your crash the whole truck up
And if you know whats good for you nigga you better get the fuck up!!!

MonoBrow said...

Woah. Ja, z'n laatste album schijnt goed te zijn. Maar ja, ik word zo vaak teleurgesteld door Amerikaanse rappers dat ik het nog niet weet.

markus said...

ik vind het crap