Action Bronson - Riggs & Murtaugh lyrics

[Reks:] 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 [Action Bronson:] 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 d** were tossed [Reks:] World revolves, cycles turn, psychos turn pill poppers Suicidal wheel riders, sk** harkers, architect the thought Of dark to prosper Oscar for thespian talkers Action and Reks equals bonkers bars— MFing monsters [Action:] Yes, sir. Tantric positions with his wifey on the baby bed Blatant disrespect Root of evil on ca**ette Eating seasonal and fresh. Leaving semen on the chest The young Morgan Freeman people skiing on the vest [Reks:] 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 p**y 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. f** it— flung a finger, let ‘em all come [Action:] Got all women making plaster twisting naturals this is practice Tempurpedic mattress, p**y like a catfish She like it backwards. Many pa**engers have pa**ed through She getting ran through quick wit slurping the cash in my grip whip Got a sick clique known to nibble on a b**h 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 f** the diamonds—slice up the cheeses with the string sh** [Reks:] 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