Bellyache Lyrics
| Song | Bellyache |
| Artist | Arabesque |
| Album | The Frenzy Of Renown |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Steve Kawalit/Neil Hamilton | |
| [Verse 1] | |
| Shut your face homeboy, yo it's on | |
| Quit your belly ache, your bitch and your moan | |
| Hold your ground, hold your grudge hold your throne | |
| It's Arabesque and he's officially blown | |
| To all my headaches, I'm your Tylenol | |
| Light years ahead of you ask the god | |
| Thugs do the Debbie Gibson when they hear this | |
| Backpackers pack there saddle on my penis | |
| Best thing since sliced bread cut by Saukrates | |
| Soul strut like Koreans with Bum Knees | |
| Sy Wyld bring the beat like syameese | |
| 48 cali with those desert e's | |
| Commisso count my bread count my dough count my biscuit | |
| I'm the mob's official meal ticket | |
| I'll send your ass home and that's an order | |
| Like my pops with a 5 o'clock shadow at the border | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| I ain't goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother****er get used to me | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Ya girl got them wanderin' eyes, and you wonderin why | |
| Mother****er I'm one hell of a guy | |
| 9-5 on the nag 9-5 on the rag 9-5 make me gag | |
| Venus is a full time job stay flappin' they jaws | |
| At Mars policies and laws | |
| You like way I gassed you up | |
| You ****ing cocky cock | |
| I'm Palestinian I was born to rock | |
| It's all real to a brotha you feel | |
| Hold down the club like my name is steering wheel | |
| Aramaic on the tongue big Besque on the chest | |
| Those who want it we can put it to rest | |
| To all the fakes make no mistake | |
| This ain't Degrassi High boy son, I don't run with the snakes | |
| Don't get it twisted b | |
| Ya mamma does dig me | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| I ain't goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother****er get used to me | |
| [Verse 3] | |
| Sand nigga sensation | |
| If it ain't Paula Abdul its Big Besque on your radio station | |
| Ayo my people what's the haps | |
| It's like good will handin' out mics we catchin us a bum rap | |
| My fam doesn't own a 7-11 | |
| We hold down the bar with the southern and 7 | |
| For heaven sakes, been through all the pain and aches | |
| Ayo son you know this wasn't a quick break | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| I ain't goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that's that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother****er get used to me |
| zuo qu : Steve Kawalit Neil Hamilton | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Shut your face homeboy, yo it' s on | |
| Quit your belly ache, your bitch and your moan | |
| Hold your ground, hold your grudge hold your throne | |
| It' s Arabesque and he' s officially blown | |
| To all my headaches, I' m your Tylenol | |
| Light years ahead of you ask the god | |
| Thugs do the Debbie Gibson when they hear this | |
| Backpackers pack there saddle on my penis | |
| Best thing since sliced bread cut by Saukrates | |
| Soul strut like Koreans with Bum Knees | |
| Sy Wyld bring the beat like syameese | |
| 48 cali with those desert e' s | |
| Commisso count my bread count my dough count my biscuit | |
| I' m the mob' s official meal ticket | |
| I' ll send your ass home and that' s an order | |
| Like my pops with a 5 o' clock shadow at the border | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Ya girl got them wanderin' eyes, and you wonderin why | |
| Mother er I' m one hell of a guy | |
| 95 on the nag 95 on the rag 95 make me gag | |
| Venus is a full time job stay flappin' they jaws | |
| At Mars policies and laws | |
| You like way I gassed you up | |
| You ing cocky cock | |
| I' m Palestinian I was born to rock | |
| It' s all real to a brotha you feel | |
| Hold down the club like my name is steering wheel | |
| Aramaic on the tongue big Besque on the chest | |
| Those who want it we can put it to rest | |
| To all the fakes make no mistake | |
| This ain' t Degrassi High boy son, I don' t run with the snakes | |
| Don' t get it twisted b | |
| Ya mamma does dig me | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Sand nigga sensation | |
| If it ain' t Paula Abdul its Big Besque on your radio station | |
| Ayo my people what' s the haps | |
| It' s like good will handin' out mics we catchin us a bum rap | |
| My fam doesn' t own a 711 | |
| We hold down the bar with the southern and 7 | |
| For heaven sakes, been through all the pain and aches | |
| Ayo son you know this wasn' t a quick break | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me |
| zuò qǔ : Steve Kawalit Neil Hamilton | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Shut your face homeboy, yo it' s on | |
| Quit your belly ache, your bitch and your moan | |
| Hold your ground, hold your grudge hold your throne | |
| It' s Arabesque and he' s officially blown | |
| To all my headaches, I' m your Tylenol | |
| Light years ahead of you ask the god | |
| Thugs do the Debbie Gibson when they hear this | |
| Backpackers pack there saddle on my penis | |
| Best thing since sliced bread cut by Saukrates | |
| Soul strut like Koreans with Bum Knees | |
| Sy Wyld bring the beat like syameese | |
| 48 cali with those desert e' s | |
| Commisso count my bread count my dough count my biscuit | |
| I' m the mob' s official meal ticket | |
| I' ll send your ass home and that' s an order | |
| Like my pops with a 5 o' clock shadow at the border | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Ya girl got them wanderin' eyes, and you wonderin why | |
| Mother er I' m one hell of a guy | |
| 95 on the nag 95 on the rag 95 make me gag | |
| Venus is a full time job stay flappin' they jaws | |
| At Mars policies and laws | |
| You like way I gassed you up | |
| You ing cocky cock | |
| I' m Palestinian I was born to rock | |
| It' s all real to a brotha you feel | |
| Hold down the club like my name is steering wheel | |
| Aramaic on the tongue big Besque on the chest | |
| Those who want it we can put it to rest | |
| To all the fakes make no mistake | |
| This ain' t Degrassi High boy son, I don' t run with the snakes | |
| Don' t get it twisted b | |
| Ya mamma does dig me | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me | |
| Verse 3 | |
| Sand nigga sensation | |
| If it ain' t Paula Abdul its Big Besque on your radio station | |
| Ayo my people what' s the haps | |
| It' s like good will handin' out mics we catchin us a bum rap | |
| My fam doesn' t own a 711 | |
| We hold down the bar with the southern and 7 | |
| For heaven sakes, been through all the pain and aches | |
| Ayo son you know this wasn' t a quick break | |
| Chorus | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| I ain' t goin no where | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Ayo Get use to me | |
| Bellyache, wooooo that' s that bellyache | |
| Quit your Belly Achin' | |
| Bellyache, wooooo quit your bellyache | |
| Mother er get used to me |
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