- 歌词
- 专辑列表
Pen Pals
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STFU
Swell: I make a song that's catchy with the Apache We some latchkey kids that are known internationally Cynic The Apache: Only eat the snatch if it's fantastic b Fashionably late to a dinner date Me n Cynic innovate Switchin lanes on the interstate Thinkin bout the cash we finna take We grab the stash then we grin n skate Cuz we're cold like a winter day Plus it's blustery, house filled with mice and dirty cutlery Go ahead, fuck with me Matter of fact, fuck with us Break ya neck like Bussa Bus Rhymin bout disgusting stuff At your Gma's crib, baking cookies then I bust a nut You suckas better pucker up, hit em with the upper cut Cynic with the Philly Shell, Swell got the blunderbuss Thunderous applause for the humble fucks! Hit em with a couple bucks we generous gentlemen Genitals be draggin on the ground, I got that heavy dick Never let Berettas rip But tell em bout that mescaline Excellent, cover you with colorful confetti spit Yo we rhymin sick Won't be satisfied until we're signing tits And divin in vagina lips Strictly from the hard bars Can't remember where the fuckin car's parked Standin still with Nardwuar, march against the Sarduakar Masters of the art of war, studied the terrain Mapped it in our brain Smashed the window pane Crashed the plane Cracked the safe Smacked you in ya face son We rhyme iller Fear is the mind killer I'm feelin great, make papes like Bill Gates And ill tapes filled with straight billingsgate They buried me alive, I still escaped But I lost a fuckin lung Torque wrench under the tongue Some sunuvaguns, fuckin with us you'll catch a punch in the nuts Wake up to blackness cuz you're stuffed in a trunk Me n Swell'll do a hit, just for a quarter prolly Yo I caught a body by pushing over the port-a-potty Whoa 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网 La-di-da-di We likes to party Order up the pizza, pepperoni and the sardines Ya nahmean My crew don't do much On the roof, view's plush Two hundred dollar toothbrush Never had to move drugs, only had to spit words Drop a sick verse, hittin bitches til my dick hurts Mixed elixirs made by a witch doctor Hit yo bitch with the shocker like shiiiiit GOTCHA! Tossin in Siracha for the hotness, rock this Only for the love not the profit, that shit's obnoxious Equip binoculars and spot em from a distance Rapswell n Cynic been a couple sinnin misfits I'm toe tagging these no dough havin Frodo Baggins Slow as Volkswagons eat you like komodo dragons My modem laggin but I'm still watching efukt with three sluts Squeezin on deez nuts, son try to keep up We speak rough, conversatin on the late night Takin bites of prey we in the nation of the Great Whites Break mics on stage, I know you gon remember this We blow your spot up like it's London on November 5th We blending piff with the Bally Shag Holla back Ain't no time to lollygag Jack you for your trolley pass You prolly mad cuz we zipped you up inside the body bag Rock mics in the Temple of Doom until the columns collapse We caught you lookin Off puttin Sauce cookin Lost in Brooklyn Hear the sound of applause Now bring the hook in
HOOK Talkin shit about my squad OH MY GOD! STFU You need to SHUT THE FUCK UP Talkin shit about my crew son? Who the hell are you??!! STFU You need to SHUT THE FUCK UP
Incoherent mumbling
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