CELPH TITLED - Primo's Four Course Meal lyrics
Send "Primo's Four Course Meal" Ringtone to Cell Phone 
stand back ya heard sir murders occur
my verbs are disturbed
my curse words are hurtin your herbs
alertin the service bringin marines with kerosene flasks guns and masks jumpin through glass with sick 229's and mp5's
i rapid fire bustin sprayment
when i was a baby my pacifier was a grenade pin
and yes im from tampa
no im not a buccaneer but ill be buckin near your main arteries ya fuckin queer
the sun is here
cover your eyes
all my attributes is dangerous
my moustache is murderous
my hipbone'll send your clique home wit they ribs blown back and they wigs sewn to they six pack
cartilage in a gift wrap
my cartridges click clack
and leave you and your bitch clapped
now ya bitch ass need a neck brace with a chin strap
we swing machetes at crews with little ice picks and niggas round my way call me the cuban missile crisis
my raps not for emo kids
my flame thrower leave you bald head like chemo kids
i aint a gangsta and a gentleman
im one of the two
dont open doors for bitches
so which one do you choose?
playboy make you steak sauce
A-1 you gay soft
not travolta but which of my hos'll take your face off
we got the cake off
my money stacks make the rubber bands snap
my number runners gettin bundled with no goverment tags
aint no 20 80s split better give me half
or you can get your jaw split
courtesy of vinnie pazz
A-O-T-P or D-E-M-I-G-O-D-Z
either or galore heaters pour
got the fever for some thick skeezers and a need for whores
she got a apple bum so what the fuck we need bonita for
rappers try to pull my cards i gave em a shuffle
gutter mouth took their bodies so i gave em a shovel
runnin ten laps in a second
when im rappin on records
came in the game in '98 and im already a legend
back in the day me and dutchmaster schemin just to get in
now we slingin wacks from 813 to the gremlin
hook line and sinker
my hooks and lines'll sink you leagues under the sea
up my sleeves up under the fleece
no tricks just a loaded piece
chrome heat
put you in a coma sleep
with a combover to cope wit holes in ya cheek
and i dont care if you worship
ill put a bullet in your temple
leave you bent and crippled
wife and kids get sentimental
ya best soldiers incomparable to my b-team
fuck nas mission impossible be my thief's theme
each beam i aim multiplied by 8
you gettin fucked on ya album and gettin raped on mixed tape
i kick with a flipped face targetin system
heat vision like the predator
im slaugterin victims
the harder i hit em
nigga the better they know
call up the reverend and we bringin holy shit to ya show
these holy clips leave you holy split
every ho i hit get baptized in holy water comin out the hole in my dick
i stay holdin my dick
you thought i wasnt one of them
spittin phlegm on bibles in gods crib right in front of him
im ice berg but not slim
more like this hyper shit that sunk the titanic
that irreversible damage
theres no recovery possible
no nurses no hospitals no stuffed bears and get well cards
just celph spittin hells bars
you grew up on a farm with the amish gettin they goats from
im from the dirty south but im clean so call me soap scum
ill sell the same shit twice
double dip it and reup
i aint married to this rap game
we aint signin a prenup
you up late watchin raunchy cable
and ima creep behind your couch and crack ya motherfuckin skull on the coffee table
Send "Primo's Four Course Meal" Ringtone to Cell Phone
Correct these lyrics
Thanks to bpmcgough@gmail.com for these lyricsmy verbs are disturbed
my curse words are hurtin your herbs
alertin the service bringin marines with kerosene flasks guns and masks jumpin through glass with sick 229's and mp5's
i rapid fire bustin sprayment
when i was a baby my pacifier was a grenade pin
and yes im from tampa
no im not a buccaneer but ill be buckin near your main arteries ya fuckin queer
the sun is here
cover your eyes
all my attributes is dangerous
my moustache is murderous
my hipbone'll send your clique home wit they ribs blown back and they wigs sewn to they six pack
cartilage in a gift wrap
my cartridges click clack
and leave you and your bitch clapped
now ya bitch ass need a neck brace with a chin strap
we swing machetes at crews with little ice picks and niggas round my way call me the cuban missile crisis
my raps not for emo kids
my flame thrower leave you bald head like chemo kids
i aint a gangsta and a gentleman
im one of the two
dont open doors for bitches
so which one do you choose?
playboy make you steak sauce
A-1 you gay soft
not travolta but which of my hos'll take your face off
we got the cake off
my money stacks make the rubber bands snap
my number runners gettin bundled with no goverment tags
aint no 20 80s split better give me half
or you can get your jaw split
courtesy of vinnie pazz
A-O-T-P or D-E-M-I-G-O-D-Z
either or galore heaters pour
got the fever for some thick skeezers and a need for whores
she got a apple bum so what the fuck we need bonita for
rappers try to pull my cards i gave em a shuffle
gutter mouth took their bodies so i gave em a shovel
runnin ten laps in a second
when im rappin on records
came in the game in '98 and im already a legend
back in the day me and dutchmaster schemin just to get in
now we slingin wacks from 813 to the gremlin
hook line and sinker
my hooks and lines'll sink you leagues under the sea
up my sleeves up under the fleece
no tricks just a loaded piece
chrome heat
put you in a coma sleep
with a combover to cope wit holes in ya cheek
and i dont care if you worship
ill put a bullet in your temple
leave you bent and crippled
wife and kids get sentimental
ya best soldiers incomparable to my b-team
fuck nas mission impossible be my thief's theme
each beam i aim multiplied by 8
you gettin fucked on ya album and gettin raped on mixed tape
i kick with a flipped face targetin system
heat vision like the predator
im slaugterin victims
the harder i hit em
nigga the better they know
call up the reverend and we bringin holy shit to ya show
these holy clips leave you holy split
every ho i hit get baptized in holy water comin out the hole in my dick
i stay holdin my dick
you thought i wasnt one of them
spittin phlegm on bibles in gods crib right in front of him
im ice berg but not slim
more like this hyper shit that sunk the titanic
that irreversible damage
theres no recovery possible
no nurses no hospitals no stuffed bears and get well cards
just celph spittin hells bars
you grew up on a farm with the amish gettin they goats from
im from the dirty south but im clean so call me soap scum
ill sell the same shit twice
double dip it and reup
i aint married to this rap game
we aint signin a prenup
you up late watchin raunchy cable
and ima creep behind your couch and crack ya motherfuckin skull on the coffee table
Send "Primo's Four Course Meal" Ringtone to Cell Phone Correct these lyrics
