The Rocky And Bullwinkle Theme Ringtones

One, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one Uh! Runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin' Uh! Heaven, heaven He's coming Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin'-ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Got my, got my, got my, got my eyes open (Oh, oh, oh) Got my, got my, got my eyes open Got my, got my, got my, got my eyes open (Oh, oh, oh) Got my eyes open Oh, oh, oh, uh Oh, oh, oh, uh He's coming Runnin', runnin', Runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin' One, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one He's coming Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one (They gon' feel this one) Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one Ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel-they gon' feel this one Ridin'-ridin' 'round town, they gon' feel this one, oh, oh I'm ridin', I'm ridin' (Got my eyes open, got my, got my, got my eyes open) Oh, yeah (Got my, got my eyes open) I'm ridin', I'm ridin', yeah I'm (Got my, got my, got my, got my eyes-eyes) Igor One Down, down, down, down, down Down, down, down, down Down, down Dow-dow-dow-dow-dow-dow-dow-down, one Yeah, ho Yeah, ho Yeah, ho Yeah, ho (One) Yeah, ho One, one, one Got my eyes open Got my-got my-got my eyes open Runnin', runnin', runnin' Got my eyes open One, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one On-on-on-on-on-on-one One, one One, one Got my-got my-got my-got my-got my-got my-got my-got my- (One, one)

For your boy, I'm watching Freaks and Geeks with the trampoline on the floor I'm tryna cop the new McLaren with the vertical doors, nigga Money, money, money, money, money ain't the motive What's your name again? Nobody knows it Don't speak to me nigga, you not important, I'm focused (two, three, four) "Bring in the horns" They say I'm nutty, I'm picnic basket I'm short of a sandwich, I'm peanut butter Boyce Watkins a faggot, please come and get me Said I suckin' at your neck, like a hickey, boy I'm sicky Like a HIV victim, ain't nobody fuckin' with me I got banned from New Zealand, whitey called me a demon And a terrorist, goddamn it, I couldn't believe it Ban a kid from a country, I never fall, never timber But you fucked up as a parent, your child idol's a nigger I clearly don't give a fuck, so you could run that shit back And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat (man...) Cherry Bomb the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound And that shit gon' pop just like that nigga that was never 'round Damn, 'got to drop, gas 'em up, thick exhaust Young T, came quick, hard to beat, dick is soft We ain't lyin', we the truth, call him Simba, beats his hooves Tyler, The Creator sweatin' Jesus juice Put that fuckin' cow on my level, 'cause I'm raising the stakes Mom, I made you a promise, it's no more section 8 Well, when we ate, it was the steaks, now our section is great 'Cause that's the level I'm at, my niggas pass him a plate 'Ye! Why, oh why, why, why don't they like me? 'Cause Nike gave a lot of niggas checks but I'm the only nigga to ever check Nike Richer than white people with black kids Scarier than black people with ideas Nobody can tell me where I'm headin' But I feel like Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen at my weddin' (yeah) They say I'm crazy, but that's the best thing goin' for me You can't lynch Marshawn if Tom Brady throwin' to me I made a million mistakes, but I'm successful in spite of 'em I believe you like a fat trainer taking a bite of somethin' I wanna turn the tanks to playgrounds I dreamt of 2Pac, he asked me, "Are you still down?" Yeah, my nigga It's on, it's on, it's on, it's on I know they told they white daughters, "Don't bring home Jerome" I am the free nigga archetype (woo) I am the light and the beacon; you can ask the deacon It's funny, when you get extra money Every joke you tell just be extra funny (yeah) I mean, you can even dress extra bummy Cocaine, bathroom break, nose extra runny And I gave you all I got, you still want extra from me (woo) Oxford want a full-blown lecture from me And the Lexus pull up, errr, like hop, I hopped out, like wassup? Err-err-err, step back, hold up, my nigga, you suck Hold up (skrrrrt) I studied the proportions Emotions runnin' at a Autobahn speed-level Had a drink with fear, and I was textin' God He said, "I gave you a big dick, so go extra hard" For your boy, I'm tryna cop the new McLaren with the vertical doors I'm watchin' Freak and Geeks, got a trampoline in my room, damn (two, three, four) Hold your fuckin' horses Niggas really fuckin' thought that T lost it Like I bet it at a auction Been exhausted, I been workin' While y'all silly bros smoke like broken exhaust tips Fuckin' losers Hold your fuckin' ponies, my homie I'll whip your donkey by my lonely, I eat pussy like Shoney's, yeah (yeah) It's Tunechi, homie, Master of Ceremonies I knock 'em down, domino effect, no pepperoni, I swear This them Golf boys, like them Hot Boys For the nine-nine and 2000 But its the two-thou' and the one-four and the one-five Yo, what up Wayne? What up slime? Nigga, go hard Yeah, I'ma go hard like before came Got too much drive, need like ten lanes Life is a broad, and she give brain That's that road head (yeah), this a dream car Got a full tank of that same year I was born That's that 1-9-9-1 'Nother nigga like I, you won't find one 'Cause nigga I'm a god, a divine one, Tune My trigger finger wise but my nine dumb (yeah) Middle finger blind, so it's fuck A-N-Y-one Fuck, skate, and die son, a hundred ways to die, son I'm starin' at a tramp on lean, make my eye jump Use Adderall like alarm clocks, wake my high up Stakes are high, well done, and prime cut, eat up I stick my Rollie in her mouth, let the time come She got hair like Sheneneh, and eyes like Wanda Oh my goodness Wayne, them bitches ugly These niggas colder than Tommy buddy Ye, we hittin' models like Tony Parker be hittin' bottles Bitch, I'm goin' harder than yellow cabbies stoppin' for Lionel (black ass nigga) They be duckin' us niggas, shout out to Donald Sterling Boy, let's get a scrimmage And cut some niggas, I'll bring the Clippers And a couple owners that's kinda German You bring the nooses And a couple trees, where the money grow And get bodies burnin' 'Cause I'm tryna hang like I'm Mr. Cooper or Jews in Berlin Or some niggas from Alabama, Birmingham My new music's all over the street like Erick Sermon was Fuck us, maybe we should team up Anti-Golf boys 'cause I don't fuck with me either I'm a liar, I'm a faggot (ugh) Son, you need Jesus But I heard he left Sunset to go on tour with Yeezus Well, I'm prayin' for the new Yeezys And you pussies prayin' that we squash the beef like zucchini, I know It ain't gain, nor fame, nor tame Or lame, nor strange Nah faggot, it's Golf Wang

We're gonna gear up for fun We're gonna rev up for adventures We'll take a ride with everyone Helpin' out with the Happy Helpers (ooh) With the friends to know, we're gonna go, go, go Zoomin' around, havin' the best time (ooh) From Hot Dog Hills, our favorite town 'Til we get to the finish line We're Mickey and the Roadster Mickey and the Roadster Racers Come on, come on Mickey and the Roadster Mickey and the Roadster Racers Oh yeah-yeah-yeah We're gonna tear up the ro-o-o-o-oad Spin out the whe-e-e-e-eels Go overdri-i-i-i-ive We'll have a great ride with Mickey and the Roadster Racers (Hot dog!) We'll have a great ride with Mickey and the Roadster Racers (Hot dog!) We'll have a great ride with Mickey and the Roadster Racers