Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Frontin Ass Ducks , by - Godfather Don. Release date: 13.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Frontin Ass Ducks , by - Godfather Don. Frontin Ass Ducks |
| Benign minds that rhyme can’t fuck with the clandestine |
| Hand-to-mind, my line taps a nine like a cat o' nine |
| Mutilating cadavers and digits. |
| Spit it out |
| From my trachea, makes me an alche… my |
| Chemicals attack livers of niggas that rap with a |
| TEC-9. |
| I’ll wreck rhymes and smack local rap figures |
| Pitter-patter, my sickle splatter your little matter |
| Corrosed and mummified, encased in the brittle batter |
| But, suckers, I’ll run up your tookus, so talk shit |
| I’ll walk with ligaments that’s caustic ‘cause I lost it |
| Forced it, the heavenly follows ‘til my tomorrow |
| So I don’t see you. |
| I see terror, medical horror |
| I trigger rigor mortis, meticulous when I’m kicking |
| This habitual, virtual body of carnival rituals |
| I’m hurting you, innards and stomped gut get hacked on |
| Contents coagulated, I managed to rap |
| Long, beyond the door lies more guys to trample |
| A flesh-eater fetus with more eyes to sample |
| Implements of pain, hang in my morgue with ran- |
| -cid meat, sheets that reeks of, like, dog shit |
| Bags of body is exhumed, entombed, then I bury them |
| Smitten, shitting, walking ‘round my sanitarium |
| Go run, tell. |
| Son, Hell is better ta |
| Avoiding ill niggas polishing skulls like The Predator, yeah |
| My technique’ll wreck sheets from Palestine to clan- |
| -destine, I’ll plant a mine to destroy rhymes that can’t align |
| I’ll stomp ghosts and play high-post upon your steeple |
| My eye cries red as I reveal ill-type evil |
| I peeped, through flesh, the spools of fools in my bar space |
| So get blown the fuck away like Monty did in Scarface |
| A bizarre race that Allah chased. |
| Give me my pa’s |
| Face. |
| I’m taking revenge on niggas that pa hates |
| The mortician creating incisions with wit precision |
| You’re wishing and then you are chilling with hella Christians |
| I list ten men that deserve to get blasted |
| And do work as I smirk, their skins are gently plastered |
| On these hollow halls, balls and smashed, drained, and simmered |
| Dinner the pitfalls that could fall on niggas' innards |
| I am so depressed that I let |
| Off rounds at cops in broad daylight without a vest, just |
| Testing and you’re destined to rest less |
| Than zero. |
| I’m a nigga that loves to blast, I’m the ant-hero |
| Ozone |
| Depletions. |
| Zones increase? |
| Then take the ville gases |
| That make me break out, like, laugh like your masses |
| As for your pastor, he’s past a spot of humor |
| He can’t mess with a spirit that snap necks with Moctezuma |
| Design exhumer, sucking souls to leave a carcass |
| Crustified remains of brains reduced to porridge |
| Polysaccharide from the crack of mind starts to |
| Dilapitize my insides, I desecrate where rappers die |
| My eyes glisten, wishing my girl would listen |
| I’m disincarnate, devoid of life, and now my mission is |
| To imprison, design benevolence to crucifixion |
| Spittle typhus, infect my enemies through use of diction |
| Rancid, run sticks plus clips and snub tips and tons |
| Of NoDoz. |
| To keep my past up, I blast my photos |
| Heron, barbiturates sit on my dresser, they’re wre- |
| -cking me to run to water, succumb to pressure |
| Nevertheless, I’ll progress the shit that bust your earlobe |
| I’ll walk a thin line between a murderer and hero, yeah |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| MC's Out to Murder the World | 2020 |
| Yeah | 2021 |
| 8 Million Stories | 2021 |
| Stratocaster ft. Kool Keith | 2016 |
| Mc's Out to Murder the World-2 ft. The Cenobites | 2004 |
| Voices ft. Godfather Don | 2012 |
| Frontin' Ass Ducks | 2004 |
| Who Got the Funk ft. Godfather Don | 2020 |