Ron Burgundy ft. Flukey, Goldie & Squeegie Oblong Lyrics

Ron Burgundy, uh

How I tell a vision

Before Bob could lay down the drums, this shit was finished

Lyrically I'm Fei Long, it's fire when I kick it

Don't share my moves with no one, no Ryu to my kinship

You feel me lawd

It ain't nothing to rap to me

Nothing wack, or average, it's either heat or a masterpiece

Sample chopped by Fresh, he threw the pass to me

With slaps hard enough to get us banned from an academy

Keep my wife's name out you're fucking mouth

Daylight savings, you'll see the rise when son come out

Can out lap them without passing the Paton

This shit is remote learning, I'm in a class on my own

Don't compare me to dudes that wear a thousand dollar belts

But won't invest a hundred dollars in they self

And wonder why they fan base in they hometown is often doing awful

Nigga nobody gone support you until you support you

Stupid

Like we always do about this time

Uh

Flukey the illest

These dudes beginners

The rest of them just pretenders dude

They couldn't fit my tennis shoes

I run with niggas they in the room then you hid you jewels

We different dudes if we say we did it we did it too

Nigga, Flu too cool for you dudes to ridicule

Tell the truth admit

Ya'll niggas pick and choose

And fabricate your truth when you spit so you can fit in crews

Than your whole diction a contradiction dude

Somebody tell Bobby this beat a body

Body slamming rappers, running my city, Jesse The Body

All these rappers claiming they king but I see no body

First nigga screaming my name then I see a body

We'll see about it, but see I thought I told ya'll not to fuck with me

I thought I told these niggas we spit buck fifties

On the low I know all ya'll niggas look up to me

That's not you dude if he said that you could keep up with me

I said what I said

I saw crunch time he said it's crunch time

He took a little sabbatical, let his funds climb

I remember it vividly ducking one time

Now we trapping immaculate on the front line

Don't bother Miss Carter, she mad

The head good, she ski free cause she bad

Pop tags and drop bags and we brag

No gun flashing, freeze tag cause we dads

I see ya copping shit that we had

I hear ya popping shit like he mad

I'm on a thousand, I brought the pounds in

The kilo is a thousand grams provide the housing

Look brother that's word to Lu's mother

I been inside of the poom poom and you love her

Door banging like boom boom, it's who other

None other, Cobain I brung butter

Niggas be at these shows rocking they sisters clothes thinking they next up

You call this shit local I call it check cuts

Bitch I'll sign your pity on the runny kind

Sada tay

Pull a chester bean screaming help police

Twisted on harbor day

Black Jesus on the platform

Last of the mohegans

Cause real nigga season is rare

From the era of the schemers

Jean shorts on like I'm the black John Cena

You niggas ain't seeing the flesh

There's no way you could connect to spirit

Shut down the play with a pass interference

Son I got love for Tyrone briggs

But that ugly motherfucker owes me bread

Cause I wrote half of Tyrone shit

On my Reggie I'll be that

My nickname is fuck you bitch

Cause all the hoes know that he ain't shit

Turn you album to a weed tray

My shit spins on Shade 45 I got nudes blackmailing the DJs