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View Poll Results: Rate Miranda

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  • 5 Star Classic

    3 100.00%
  • 4 Star Banger

    0 0%
  • 3 Star Decent

    0 0%
  • 2 Star Boring

    0 0%
  • 1 Star Wack

    0 0%
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Thread: Miranda - Track Review

  1. #1

    Default Miranda - Track Review



    Method Man
    Ghostface Killah


    Yo, man, just let her live, man, stop playing, man
    Oh, shit, B, where's Miranda? (She with Chef)


    I dreamed it, Chef out in Cuba, a Ruger
    Thirty thou' on him, out in Mr. Chow, blew a cloud on him
    Seen a Latin chick, laughing, clapping
    Like your style, homey, tell your proud, hit the Crystal
    Now we chatting, coebers and klickos, who do this a size six
    She split up, had a brick, I peeped those
    Her jeans was fitted, hair twisted, long as a fuck
    She looked Indian, titties was plump
    Had juicy lips, dimples, imprint on her pussy was mad thick
    She grabbed my dick, hopped in the window
    We in the Monte Carlo, bravo, uncle named Pablo
    Gun connect, and he had his poke in Los Cabos
    Good money, honey was strung, playing Luther in the background
    Spanish version, my bunny was horny as fuck
    Working the kid, we burst later, lay in the bed
    Duvet sheets, my face hit the spread
    Then time me, I'm not the kind of nigga, I was cool down at night
    Drop my gun, shorty, my nigga
    Body was sexy, "Lexy, come here, nigga, take off your drawers
    Let me suck your dick, nigga, it's yours
    Got real watery, Corey, damn you got good dick
    You forty" spit on it, position your jaw
    Call me 8-Ball, this pussy like China, climb the Great Wall
    Then she came like volcanoes in the late fall

    (Ghostface Killah)

    Lady Miranda, she half black and white like a panda
    I met her at the BET Awards, in Atlanta
    Glamor girl, shopping in Bloomingdale's, skin pure
    Keep a fresh manicure, hands with the cutest nails
    Wall Street banker, hold accounts with Jewish now
    Big businessmen, who own stocks in computer sales
    Meanwhile, I'm checking her jeans out, imagining
    Her fat bubble, riding my dick, making her scream out
    She got a mean mouth, her lips is like soup coolers
    Hotter than niggas riding around with six rugers
    Miss Beaulah took a day off with a rich jeweler
    When she came back she had a suitcase full of Fig Newtons
    I met her at a villa in Vancouver, blowing her man's buddah
    Bumping Mary J. and that Grand Puba
    Check the 411, from a smooth operator
    Got some pictures of her naked, I'll send them to Un later

    (Method Man)

    Ay Dio mio, mamacita ass bonita
    Remind me of the nights of Del Rio
    I met at the Cotto fights, playing my seat though
    That night, the linen was white, me and my hijos
    Live from Puerto Rico, San Juan, where niggas sniff pedrico
    Look at your man wrong, finito
    Girl you know how we go, you getting my grown man on
    Fuck with you primo, maybe I'm hands on, I'll massage your ego
    And be the love of your life, you know your people, a thug and his wife
    Gave a look, she was touching my ice, so I looked at my dick
    Like don't worry, we fucking tonight
    She boricua, cinnamon skin, sign is Libra
    She like wife beaters and men that like to eat her
    Then I meet your feet up, meet me in room 112, light this reefer
    You act right, and after tonight, I might keep ya

  2. #2
    No artificial sleazy
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Rep Power


    How come spicy isn't an option?

  3. #3


    ^^^I dunno why I can't stop laughing at dude's picture.

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