Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song GED, artist - Jarren Benton. Album song Freebasing With Kevin Bacon, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 27.06.2012
Record label: Funk Volume, YouTube
Song language: English
GED |
| I just got my G.E.D |
| So there ain’t shit you can say to me |
| Yeah, Kato |
| Jarren, Benton |
| 4, Ize |
| Waddup? |
| You ever try to suck your own dick? |
| That shit never works do it? |
| I just got my G.E.D. |
| nigga! |
| Finna style on these niggas |
| Every day I wake up (yawn) |
| Tryna get this cake up |
| Smack a bitch so hard, I knock off all her make-up |
| Stomach rumbling, fucking rappers 'bout to get ate up |
| Y’all a bunch of queers, they cheering for team Jacob |
| Josephine Baker, blowing green acres |
| Bully niggas for lunch money, I need paper |
| Fuck with me, is bump 50 with clean razors |
| And I stand the fuck out like new shorts and pink gators |
| Torpedo on my arm |
| Bitch I’m not the norm' |
| And I’m posted at the bar all day like I’m Norm |
| Clueless like a Blood in a blue uniform |
| And the shit I’m smoking got me seeing blue unicorns (woo) |
| Stunting on these niggas like I just hit the lottery |
| Dick in your bitch ass, like a colonoscopy |
| Got my GED, but I majored in philosophy |
| Got a minor in psychology, who’s fucking hot as me? |
| Niggas think it’s a game, cause Jarren’s a monopoly |
| Sawed off shotgun, to break you off properly |
| Stand between me and my paper, like apostrophe |
| Give niggas lobotomies, they shittin' out colostomies |
| Bitches used to diss me, they ain’t wanna talk to me |
| Jock’s shoved me in the lockers cause I act awkwardly |
| Now I’m getting pussy like I study gynecology |
| The dopest nigga from the bottom, yeah bitch, I got him here |
| Uh-huh, I said yeah bitch I gotta be |
| Blessed like the Dalai Lama |
| Your mama honour me |
| Probably, it’s certified, guaranteed |
| Kato, Jarren B, 4ize apparently |
| The illest motherfuckers like 3, the hard ways |
| So I freestyle, getting off at freedom parkway |
| Okay? |
| Is y’all pissed off yet? |
| Cut the check, my money long as Chris Bosh neck |
| With paid salary in Eric 9's art gallery |
| I’m a beast, with the vampire immortality |
| In the pale moonlight, dancing |
| I’m dancing, romancing fine bitches like Scarlett Johansson |
| Freaky sluts and tramps with these hoes |
| I’ll show 'em what they pussy made for |
| Black, white, Indian, Italian, Asians and Puerto Ricans |
| Fucking every colour in the rainbow |
| My fire, flame, oh |
| I’m smoking on the best for a living |
| And sex is a given if I’m next to a pigeon |
| Chicken head, hood rat, googoo with a monkey |
| The ambassador, I do it for my country |
| Do it for the haters, I do it for hip-hop |
| Ain’t nothin peewee up under my big top |
| I’m hard headed like a boner |
| Stupid like Homer (d'oh!) |
| With a general education diploma |
| Castlevanian mansion |
| Ring, Brady and Manson |
| Ballerina in the attic and the lady’s dancing |
| 80 phantoms, maybe I’m inhaling branson |
| And maybe I’m Bronson |
| Super sperm, break the condom |
| A hundred kids walk around with my physical structure |
| My older son drank 'till he made his liver rupture |
| My second oldest like Moses |
| 'Cept he took two of every creature, put 'em in his freezer and he froze 'em |
| My brain half dead, pledge allegiance to the chosen |
| These hookers want my kids, caught 'em leaving with the trojan |
| Try and empty it with legs open |
| I clotheslined her in the Days Inn parking lot and now she choking |
| I’m laughing at the moon while I’m rapping to this tune |
| I will make an ass out of you if you ever assume |
| Configure me cause I’m using simplicity |
| I will fucking stab you next month, and turn the future to history |
| People think I’m a prophet cause I’m dressing like Socrates |
| Easy access, has always been my philosophy |
| I don’t even flow, my words sit on top of the beat |
| Kathy Bates style, use a clock to prop up your feet |
| Down with the sledge hammer, call me 5−0 |
| Dead rappers, I don’t turn heads, I give neck fractures |
| And split heads after |
| Call me Jack the Rapper |
| You motherfuckers pitch crack, I attack the battle |
| I just got my G.E.D |
| So there ain’t shit you can say to me |