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Il-de-france Lyrics - Singles - Sex Seahorse

Caliente Caliente 

Caliente Caliente 

 

Catch you on the streets 

stomp yo fucken head out homie 

in the gutter and 

I'll watch the blood flow 

into one of the sewer things that says 

"Flowing to the ocean" 

 

that's the shit, dog 

I'll throw a rock, I'll take down a giraffe 

You dont even know me 

I'll go the L.A. zoo and fucking take 

these mother fuckers out 

 

The gorrillas the dinosaurs 

any mother fucker that's alive 

on the side of the freeway 

I'll stab a corpse 

 

I dont know, there's blood all over the highway, yeah. 

 

Catch you on the streets 

stomp yo fucken head out 

 

Catch you on the streets. 

that's how it goes down 

with you and me on the streets 

and the clowns 

fuckin push him on the ground 

tryina catch yourself 

fuckin break your wrist 

while your tryna catch your fall 

when your fallin on the floor 

and you also slip and fall 

and hit your head on the ground 

and I'll be laughing with my homies as 

we look down 

"look at this mother fucker, looks like he broke a bone... oh dang, he did! So, let's just roll home" 

 

shit, shit, son. 

I only gotta tell you 

"Catch you on the streets, mother fucker, let this be an example 

don't be fucking with my crew. You know? Me and my fucking twenty-two. Bust a cap in your mother fucking face. BALA! BLAM! mother fucker be dead like a bitch" 

 

I'm mad, grimy, nasty. Grimy ass niggas fuck with jenky shit. 

 

I dont like hearin' none of that bullshit because I gotta smack a mother fucker 25 times. 

 

Catch you on the streets Stomp yo fucken head out 

 

What? say what? mother fucker aint got time. 

(I'll) Gat you at sears, chase you down here 

and, I dont know, found you in the dressing room, naked. 

started to beat the shit out of you 

chopped yo dick off with a mother fucking box cutter 

and I laughed, with laughter 

ay brother 

shit. 

What the fuck? 

outta here 

left with the blood all over the love, the fucking dressing room 

Inside of sears. Mother fucking tryna steal a tuxedo for yourself. 

 

Caliente Caliente. 

Are you remember?




27

Artist: Breaking Point