Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coup De Gráce, artist - 360. Album song Vintage Modern, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 26.10.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Forthwrite
Song language: English
Coup De Gráce |
| The fact is I hate rappers as well |
| I’d rather battle myself and fight fire with fire (fire) |
| What I’m sayin' in my song’ll amaze ya |
| What I’m tryna say is you’ll get lost in it, ayy, brah |
| Honestly with the quality we droppin' |
| If you wanna degrade us it’s gotta be a plus |
| I ain’t listenin' to hip-hop these days |
| Everybody just a bunch of hip-hop clichés (true) |
| Go ahead and buy my shit off eBay |
| I’m here to break records like a pissed off DJ (snap) |
| Yeah, I can tell it in your melon |
| You developin' a habit, better gallop into rehab (rehab) |
| Uh, I’m a fellow without manners |
| Not a felon, I’ma Khaled 'em and tell 'em where the keys at (another one) |
| I can smell it, where the weed at? |
| Honestly, homie, yo, I can tell you’re gonna relapse, relax |
| You’re a dope fiend for the codeine |
| You’re a Fat Joe fan, got you yellin' for the lean back |
| Coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (uh-uh) |
| Coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| I don’t give a fuck who you are |
| I been lookin' around, but I still haven’t found my place |
| That’s why you see me drift off into outer space |
| All you down-to-earth rappers can eat sour grapes |
| Or a sour steak, my whole fuckin' fridge is out of date |
| I rocked up to the studio an hour late (yeah) |
| And snuck in like, «Hey guys, it sounded great» |
| I swear to God, I hear another of you welterweight |
| Rapper’s who sound the same and there’ll be fuckin' hell to pay |
| (Man) I’m feelin' back in my element |
| Like I’m channeling the Devil, writing rap for the hell of it |
| To remind these motherfuckers that I’m actually talented |
| I don’t want to but I have to keep tellin' 'em (what's that) |
| I can pad this verse out with lyrics that are six years old |
| 'Cause I wrote better shit than you when I was six years old (it's true) |
| All you rappers from the new school who just enrolled |
| If you don’t know that I’m the shit then you just been told (bitch) |
| Coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (I don’t though) |
| Yeah, coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| I don’t give a fuck who you are |
| Yeah |
| You ain’t sicker than this fidgety bitch (nup) |
| Lyckety-Splyt stick to the script and play the role you given (yeah) |
| Thinkin' your shit’s bigger than this, no, it isn’t |
| I’ma put your head in a box, boy, you goin' missin' |
| I got a chicken, I ain’t talkin' 'bout a parma, ayy |
| Pull-out game strong, I ain’t comin' to your party, mate |
| Mad at the buzz, your alarm is late |
| Reverse kanga, this shit is hard to take |
| Look, decided it’s finally time for bravado |
| Line after line after line like a barcode |
| You trash cunts who ain’t worth the work |
| So go and pull yourself together like a circle jerk, motherfuckers |
| Coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (yeah) |
| Coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| I don’t give a fuck who you are (nope) |
| Man, coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are |
| Uh, coup de grâce, coup de grâce |
| I don’t give a fuck who you are |
| Man, I’m doin' shit my own way |
| I’m kicking bubblegum and chewing arse (yeah) |
| Slidin' through your studio inside a Uber car (skrrt) |
| Jumpin' out with two bazookas and a suit of armour |
| Blow apart the booth and puff a doobie, go to Zumba class |
| You ain’t the sickest, you’re a hypochondriac |
| So just loosen up (relax), go get some juice in a chicken noodle cup |
| I got a pandemic flu and I’m pukin' up |
| Blood full of AIDS, the bubonic plague and a case of whooping cough |
| Jumpin' Jupiter, who would ever assumed that the |
| Goofiest kid in school would of grew to be even stupider |
| Screw the tutor, I’m a huffing tube of glue in a cubicle |
| Ate a urinal cake and I think it’s caught on my uvula |
| All I wanted to do was to rap and improve and do better |
| Boostin' up all of my skills, feel like you didn’t get the newsletter |
| Now I just wanna ruin your buzz, I’m a fuckin' mood killer |
| You should evacuate from the place 'cause I’m goin' nuclear |
| So fuck bein' the sharpest tool in the shed, I just grab it |
| And stab your crew with it, who want it? |
| Pshh, I’ll ruin ya’s |
| Takin' your cash cow and I grill it and serve it back to ya |
| There’s some barbecue rap for ya, chew it up, it’s the coup de grâce |