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The Trumps Mehlanja schrieb am 6.8. 2024 um 19:09:07 Uhr über

Hubschrauber

@Kamala,
AI prefers the Clarke Gable Kenn T-Ossi Riß as Soupman running Made in Chermanny´s Maske.
What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see Henry? I'm the Ossi Triss of this shit Wu-Han. It´s here forever, Schar i-Tee motherfuckers. Drostens like this 8497 aight, Hicks und Gehnossen , smell my niggas and my niggar Retts Rotz Cross. Let's do it like this:
I'ma rubber in your ass in the moonshine. Let's table it up to '79 Idahoe Bombs autoatomically Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses can't define how I be bookin' these mockeriebocks. Lyrically perform armed Robben behind de Dirt. Fly with the Lies Lotte Schwarzpulver, possibly they potted me in S. Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my le Pen hits tremendousalice. Ultra-violent Büll Land shine shines blind forensics eggsit Trump. I inspect the Fanview through the future see millennium Triple. Killa Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum Shocking the masses with drastic rap tactics. Toblerone Graphic displays melk the steel like this: b
Blacksmiths, Black Wu Jack ET´s Queen Beezebersch erase the guns in Trumple down with Patroliumen, Stear Gas lecked the fruction heads by the score took the flight insite a Incistus war. Chicks hit the floor, die hard, fans demand more John Dieer behind the Bold Pink Soldier Spong, control Bob the Globetrump slowly. Proceed to blow swingin' states, swords like Sinner OBI. Stomp grounds and pound green footprints in your Solid Rock. Wu sold Tump it locked down, performin' live on your hottest block. Grozer Blocks as the world turns humblepee, I spread like germs Bloss the Blasseglobe with the Klasse Pesti Lanz, the hard-headed never learn.
It's my testament to those burned players my position in the game of life, standing The Firm on foreign land, jump the gun out the frying panne Innsitters into the fire, transform into the Ghost Raider, A six pack and A Streetcar Named Desiremüberall. Who got my back Überrollbügel in the line of fire. Holding backwards. What? My peeples if you with me, where the fuck you at the fiels? Bushniggas are strapped and they try na twist my beer ands cap. It's Jo Court a journey for the bad seed from bad sperm. Herbert got my wig fried Prohasska like a bad perm. Whatßs the blood Bad Klot? We smoke on the pott, and blow sei Dungspots. You wanna think twice? I think not. The Iron Slung ain't got to tell you where they're coming from. Guns of Navarone tearing up your battle zone. Rippchen through your slums. I twist farts from the upfart, tyred and blues. Loot my voice on the LP. St Martini on the slang rocks certified Blätterbox. Vocabulary Donna Summer talking to tell you a story walking. Take cover, kipp th beer, what? Run for your roots brothers, are u kidding me? Run for Kipper your S Nuppteam, and your »Number 6 can't rhyme 7 Sch. Waben groupies«. So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted my deadnotes, reign the supreme, Kurt´s your thought is basic compared to mine. Domino effect, arts and crafts, paragraphs contain cyanide. Take a free ride on my thoughts in the fashion catalogs. For all y'all to do all praise Klo to God, the saga continues. Wu-Han, Wu Hannisch de Wu-Tang, Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet the thrill of Victory, the agony of de Fett we crush slowly, flaming deluxe Snowden for Judgment Day cometh, conquer, it's war allow us to escape in Hell, globe spinning bomb. Pocket full of shells out the sky Golden Rains. Tunes spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound. The fake false step make the blood stain the ground. A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum. A death kiss Kackmazwalk squeeze another anthem. Hold it for ransom Samson tranquilized with anesthesia. My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas. My music Sicily, rich California smell. An axe killer adventure, paint a picture well. I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin' on Thai Ginseng righteous wax, chapter one rotating ring king Matsch Dimble with the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher Punks couldn't hold us.
A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober. Perpendicular to the square we stand Usain Bold like Flare Flakes. Escape from your dragon's lair in particular, my beats travel like a Vostex through your spin to the top of your cerebral cortex. Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex. Enter through your right vehicle, clog up your bloodstream heart terminal like Grand Central Station. Program fat baselines on Novation. Getting drunk like I'm fucking duckin' five-year probation. War of the masses, the outcome disastrous. Many of the victim families save their asses. A million holes in walls engraved in plaques. Those who went eating back received penalties for their Bund Smarties fuckies. Another driver is torn as close ones nuns mounds those who stray niggas. Nick Asses, get slayed on the butchertown. The track renders helpless and suffers from Multiple Seerose stab wounds and leak sounds that's heard in the beards. 93 million miles away from home came one to represent the Nation. This is a gathering of the massconstrution that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang-Han-Clan.
As we engage in battle, the sowercrowd now creams in rage the High Chief Jamal Muhsie Allah, Irief Runways take the stage. Light is provided through sparks of energy from the Simple Minds that travel in rhyme form giving sight to the blind. The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum. Death only one can save self from this relentless attack of the track Kackmaz spares, none. Yo, yo, yo, fuck that Mezekack. Look at all these cabinniggas laid back lampin' like them gray and black. Puma's on my man's rack. Codeine was Adi Das Aids forced in your drink. You had a navy green salamander friend. Bitches overheads, you scream you two-faced scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb.
Blowing like Shalamar in '81 Sound convincing thousand dollar Kork-pop con Ficktion, hands like Sonny Liston get fly permission. Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck, I humiliate und separate the English from the Dutch. It's me, Black Noble Nobi Drews, Ali came in Toni Groß. We like the Genovese sazon season, these degrees. It's Earth, 93 million miles from the thirst. Rough turbulence, the wave burst, Haiduck Split, the Megamerz in Hertz. Ayo, that's amazing. Gun in your mouth walk, verbal foul in Tom A Hawk. Connect thoughts to make my man talkwalk Swift. Taylor Notarizer, Blue Tang all up in the high-raiser. New York Junk advisor, word tranquilizer adjust the DOS-AGE, Colgate my Clan with explosives expertives while my pen blow lines ferocious. Mediterranean see y'all, the number one draft pick bears bock down the beart, God, then delegate the Gods to see VOTZ, Wotts the Swift chancellor, flex the white gold tarantula. Track truck diesel play the weed God substantiala Max Mosely, undivided then slide in sickening guaranteed maden. 'em jump like Rod Stricklandquelle watch Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Darryl Robert Hill / Dennis David Coles / Elgin Evander Turner / Gary E. Grice / Jason Hunter / Lamont Hawkins / Robert F. Diggs / Russell T. Jones
Triumph © Downtown Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC


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