Ron Simmons Lyrics - Blue Chips - Action Bronson

Gipsy Salami cheese is from the cave 

Wild dandelion greens dressed up on the plate 

Parmesan crisp, we wildin' in marea 

Doing all the drugs off of Pico and Labrea 

Peace to Kings English, sticky green fingers 

Rock fast Polaroids, bitches named Dinga 

Cunnilingus, Buddy Holly singing 

Hash between my butt cheeks, hookers in the plush suite 

Whole grain mustard, 12 grain bread 

Move cocaine out of Spokane, I got no shame 

Spit the propane, relive you of your gold chain 

Go to bed without even knowing the hoes name 

Hazelnut spread, banana on your bread 

Treat you like a shark, put the hammer on your head 

Mock neck sweaters, I pack up on the threads 

Fat black leathers leave your body in the shed 

Damn 

Peace to motherfucking Iceland 

Ron, Ron Simmons 

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Damn, your fucking with a pro kid 

No triple A I went straight up to the show, kid 

While You can catch me out in Spain on the coast, dick 

Don't ever say my fucking music sound like Ghost shit 

Born alone, stood strong for half a fifty 

Vocal reminiscing of a kid that hold a semi 

Old and sweaty, motherfucker shit the bed 

They crying in the corner while there shorty give me head 

Yeah, ice sculptures, Venezuelan white vultures 

Chinese wizardry, long capes 

Old grapes in the glasses she suck me while I'm flaccid 

Every summer catch me grilling steaks by Lake Placid 

Dabbled in plastic, don't ever babble or get blasted 

Bitches ass to ass, double dildos made of plastic 

Remain classic with all this flash inside the pan shit 

Like Jr. Griffey smashing homers, never land bitch 

Damn, we never land bitch 

Yeah, we never land bitch 

Kinda high, never land bitch 

But you can see me in lamh 

Damn 

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