Action Bronson Double Breasted Lyrics
Double Breasted by Action Bronson
The man is an international star
In recent years he has achieved special recognition
For playing a man who does things his own way
A-a-a-ac... Br-br-br-bronson watch
Ey yo, our lungs are filled with the purple from the jungle
Never fumble, got the work right by the grundle
Twin dick sucks for me and my son
That's before he was three, smoking weed in the blunt
Straight from Flushing where the birds are hanging dead in the window
Scent of garbage make me sick, getting head in the rental
Got the lamb racked, pan roasted, laced it with fennel
Little yogurt that be drizzled over might be a winner
Come and see me, angel hair laced the fettucini
Halla make the baklava getting paper cash gavel
Lahmacun, salad smoking savage at a sarasoda
Macho man the taco stand is where the hookers kept
Dirty dollars gets you pussy cat
Right in the kitchen where they cooking that
Monteca, architecture art deco, twist the pussy like a soft pretzel
I'm such a special guy, I'd rather die than ever testify
You're soon to see me at the party with a vest and tie
Shorts, that's my steez when I'm steppin'
Strolling down the streets like the Westons
Double weapons, at my sides and preparing for the show down
Spin it like a wild maneuver wiling not to hold down
Hold ground, stand firm, you little sissies got a chance
Now it's time to give a man burn
Yo, you try to fuck with Bronsolini it's a crucial calling
Guaranteed you're gonna loose just like the Brooklyn Brawler
Mr. Wonderful in short sets, quartets
GorTex the bottom of the feet in case the floor wet
Floral scented hand craft and all the mother earth
Kinda strange, things been funny since my brother's birth
Shaking hands as if the money connect
Blow a ransom on a yacht, have a seat in Quebec
Respect mine, exquisite mystique, pretty petite
Little hookers running wild giving head in the street
But still, slice your nuts clean off that's with the razor
I'm laughing in the tavern and fresh brunos and blazers
Chillin, spark the pepper... yea, Queens shit, spark the pepper... p.s
In recent years he has achieved special recognition
For playing a man who does things his own way
A-a-a-ac... Br-br-br-bronson watch
Ey yo, our lungs are filled with the purple from the jungle
Never fumble, got the work right by the grundle
Twin dick sucks for me and my son
That's before he was three, smoking weed in the blunt
Straight from Flushing where the birds are hanging dead in the window
Scent of garbage make me sick, getting head in the rental
Got the lamb racked, pan roasted, laced it with fennel
Little yogurt that be drizzled over might be a winner
Come and see me, angel hair laced the fettucini
Halla make the baklava getting paper cash gavel
Lahmacun, salad smoking savage at a sarasoda
Macho man the taco stand is where the hookers kept
Dirty dollars gets you pussy cat
Right in the kitchen where they cooking that
Monteca, architecture art deco, twist the pussy like a soft pretzel
I'm such a special guy, I'd rather die than ever testify
You're soon to see me at the party with a vest and tie
Shorts, that's my steez when I'm steppin'
Strolling down the streets like the Westons
Double weapons, at my sides and preparing for the show down
Spin it like a wild maneuver wiling not to hold down
Hold ground, stand firm, you little sissies got a chance
Now it's time to give a man burn
Yo, you try to fuck with Bronsolini it's a crucial calling
Guaranteed you're gonna loose just like the Brooklyn Brawler
Mr. Wonderful in short sets, quartets
GorTex the bottom of the feet in case the floor wet
Floral scented hand craft and all the mother earth
Kinda strange, things been funny since my brother's birth
Shaking hands as if the money connect
Blow a ransom on a yacht, have a seat in Quebec
Respect mine, exquisite mystique, pretty petite
Little hookers running wild giving head in the street
But still, slice your nuts clean off that's with the razor
I'm laughing in the tavern and fresh brunos and blazers
Chillin, spark the pepper... yea, Queens shit, spark the pepper... p.s