Riggs & Murtaugh

Seven survivors sire, record was set afire
Jealous envious liars, paper
Pencil supplied a
Tempo ammo and he handle any vandal vying
Against my tribe of scribers do
Or die writing for lifers

This is orange bearded Bronson magnet
Shorties think I'm Spanish
We never rocking sandals you
See me copping pandas
The drums are heaven paired with
Lamb encrusted mustard sauce
I’m done with salmon every time they
Came the drugs were tossed

World revolves, cycles turn
Psychos turn pill poppers
Suicidal wheel riders, skill harkers
Architect the thought
Of dark to prosper Oscar for thespian talkers
Action and Reks equals bonkers
Bars MFing monsters

Yes, sir tantric positions with his
Wifey on the baby bed blatant disrespect
Root of evil on cassette
Eating seasonal and fresh leaving
Semen on the chest
The young Morgan Freeman people
Skiing on the vest

Yeah live from the bully
Pulpit where we Geppetto, puppets
Your nose is growing hold you’ll be
Showing as soft as smut is
Without the pussy showing
Penetration generation renovation
Destroy, rebuild: innovation ink a
Statement on your cranium
Painting steeples and stadiums
Scrapings and shading them
Success colors I’m braving sun faded lungs
Polluted kidney
I’m due to kick the bucket young
Fuck it flung a finger, let ‘em all come

Got all women making plaster twisting
Naturals this is practice
Tempurpedic mattress, pussy like a catfish
She like it backwards many
Passengers have passed through
She getting ran through quick wit slurping
The cash in my grip whip
Got a sick clique known to
Nibble on a bitch tit
Hear the silence then a click click
No alliance peace to big vick
Word to science
Only your salmon is a pink slit
And fuck the diamonds slice up the
Cheeses with the string shit

Get your crucifixes ruthless lyrics
From booth’s truest lyricists
Is this is vantage business bar business
Penny chasing channels face it
Fingers clink and it’s great
Make men flinch look
Slaves to my rhyme book shook
Y’all Girl Scout cookie pushing talking
Crooked yellow spine rhyme
Mob of shook ones, how you find time to be
Pitching and be scripting
To be robbing and be jotting to
Be spitting and be plotting
Your two cents don’t make a dime