9-24-11 Lyrics - Blue Chips - Action Bronson

Action Bronson Into 

*coughing* 

Smoking fucking thanksgiving turkey bags man 

Surgical procedures 

Ben Johnson 

You already know 

Smoke and drinking liquor for the fam that left us too soon 

Just keep it truckin', searching all the nooks and crannies 

No english muffin, streets are filled with crooks and trannies 

Bam bam got a shooter like Lagassee 

Emerald green paper that I split up with my posse 

One hand driving, 3 gram smoking 

2 fiend sucking, tea bag soaking 

Strength of a retard the drugs are even stronger 

Shorty loved the mange tout, dealer bring a quarter through 

Over fishing make the snapper less affordable 

I hate when stupid bitches ask me questions that rhetorical 

Like "do you want to have sex?", well bitch, it's obvious 

Her name was Jeta from the former Yugoslavia 

She grew a bush like a baby plant 

Still I ate, just think of it as bucatini razor clams 

Smuggle cheeses in a baby bag 

And then I serve at a private tasting 

I got no time for wasting 

Just dick is placed in the slit no type of conversation 

And prime rib from LaFrieda carved at the babababa 

Fuck, fucked my last word up cause I don't give a shit man 

I meant to say prime rib carved at the fucking carving station but yo 

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Yo my mind is locked up, my conscious rocked up 

In an alley with a fiend getting his cocked sucked 

Plus she wearing a wedding dress a special day 

She said she finally met a... Fuck 

Yo my mind is locked up, my conscious rocked up 

In an alley with a fiend getting his cocked sucked 

And she wearing a wedding dress a special day 

She said she finally met a man to take her breath away 

Well naturally I'm jealous, because I'm lonely 

At times my only friends are drugs and the cannoli 

My dad was right I shoulda listened when he told me 

A walking contradiction wounds inflicted on me solely 

Pain within running deeper than the ocean floor 

Bluh bluh bluh bluh bluh bluh yo 

Photos 

Pain within running deeper than the ocean floor 

Ocean avenue, the family straight from Kosovo 

That was years ago mum look how your son has bloomed 

I hum a tune and then I'm hotter than the sun in june 

And I'm just living my life but feel I'm drifting 

Demons on the doorstep, lungs that feel constricted 

Or maybe I should see a shrink and get prescripted 

Or take the hand of God but shit I think ill keep my distance 

I think I'm frightened and I didn't even know it 

But yo, that was a thought and I'm subconsciously a poet 

This shit is perfect timing and I hope that I don't blow it 

I pop the bottle of the moet you hears from me 

*unknown rapper shout outs* 

Late night I'm trying to stay out of the orez skips? 

Great white sharks, the 38 with tarnished tips 

27 years I never met an honest bitch 

Slice their face like Katana and shit 

Through my nasal blow the smoke 

Basil on the boat 

ers on the half shell, hundred dollar pants 

Wind breaker jacket flapping like a falcon from a westward wind 

Play the kitchen like a mexican, next of kin 

Patrick Swayze... We out!