All Sons of b#tches Lyrics – George Clinton

All Sons of b#tches Lyrics by George Clinton

Bow-wow-wow, yippee oh, yippee eh
Bow-wow yippee oh, yippee eh
We come to get down…hey
La la la la, lalala, la la la

We come to get down…hey
La la la lalalala, la la la
Black b#tch, white b#tch, flea bite
All scratch, all start to itchin’

Boy dog, he dog, male dog, pup
All sons a b#tches
Black b#tch, white b#tch, flea bite
All scratch, all start to itchin’

Boy dog, he dog, male dog. pup
All sons a b#tches
All sons a b#tches…all sons a b#tches
All sons a b#tches, all sons a b#tches

We come to get down…hey
La la la la, lalala, la la la
We come to get down…hey
La la la la, lalala, la la la

ALL SONS A b#tchES
Black b#tch, white b#tch, flea bite
All scratch, all start to itchin’
Boy dog, he dog, male dog, pup…

All sons a b#tches
Black b#tch, white b#tch, flea bite
All scratch, all start to itchin’
Boy dog, he dog, male dog, pup

And as we fly on y’all
We are One Nation Under A Groove
Tonight, y’all
Ain’t nothin’ but a party

Oh, y’all are gonna be here all night long
Aw, we got alot a sh#t to do tonight
Are you all ready to do the dog?
If the dogs in the world unite to get the

Riches, the silly made, really paid
Son of b#tches
Can paint the White House black
Like the President requested

I voted for that son of a b#tch
I suggested
Just thinkin’ the type of sh#t that
We can piss on then

My friend I got a list, here’s the Top Ten
The Great Wall of China
North and South…Roof
Ha a ha a Ha Carolina

A Van Gogh. Imelda. That crooked gang
My man, see I don’t know his name
Sadaam Hussien
My hockey puck…and the tabloids

When I lift up my leg
Smell my hemmroids?
It ain’t the dope dog
It’s the pup of that b#tch

And if she follow you home
You’re in some deep sh#t
How does one become a son of a b#tch
When his father was a trickin’

Him and his boy switched
Down..hey la la la la lalala la la lahey hey
We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala ia fa la

We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala la la la
We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala la la la

We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala la la la
Black b#tch, white b#tch, flea bite
All scratch, all start to itchin’

Boy dog, he dog. male dog. pup
All sons a b#tches
Bow-wow-wow. yippee oh, yippee eh
Bow-wow yippee oh yippee eh

We come to get down
Hey la la la la la lalala la la la
We come to get down with ya’
Let the funk hit ya’

In the tight britches where the
Bulldog bit ya
Come to get ya
We’re funkin’ at street level

Come to get down with ya
Let the funk hit ya, in the tight britches
Where the bulldog bit ya gonna get you
We come to get down with ya

Let the funk hit ya in the tight britches
Where the bulldog bit ya
Come to get ya We’re funkin’ at the street
Level. We’re comin’ to get down with ya

Let the funk hit ya in the tight britches
Where the bulldog bit ya come to get ya
We’re funkin’ at the street level
All sons a b#tches

We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala la la la
All sons a b#tches
Bow-wow-wow, yippee oh, yippee eh

Bow-wow yippee oh, yippee eh
We come to get down
Hey la la la la lalala la la la
Bow-wow-wow. yippee oh, yippee eh

Bow-wow yippee oh, yippee eh
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com

Listen to their music here
WestLyrics.com Amazon Music
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases

George Clinton Lyrics – All Sons of b#tches

George Clinton

All Sons of b#tches