| What’d I miss?
|
| 900 cc’s of the raw in one fist
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| The bum’s dumb blitz
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| Order in the court where the mortars jump bricks
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| Everybody, lung on the table, this point counterpoint
|
| Aesop has the murkiest, yet he numb out the prowler oint (uh)
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| And after bubblegum, he sink into the sofa
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| Clicker to pilot his broadcasted choice of cobra (hissssss)
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| The venom remains the same game of stale toxins
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| Camo’d with the now ornamental satellite options
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| Whatever’s good I got this grave half dug (true)
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| But Yani covering taps to make the pain worse than it was (nooo)
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| Playin marbles (playin marbles)
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| Hit by a bus (hit by a bus)
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| Death is sweet (death is sweet)
|
| Hell sucks, sucker
|
| Damien probably wishin I’d donate a fuck
|
| But this shit’s chiller than any conversation I’ve had in months
|
| The iron fang drew 'em all loopy (real loopy)
|
| So when he extended the hand the planet’s Kujo’s went Snoopy
|
| In perfect synocaption, burnt to crispy critters
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| Like synchronized swimmers in boric rivers
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| Mmmm, poor soaked critters
|
| Lick chop dig-in, who dares lick a shot at pigeons?
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| Why I oughta (Vast get em!)
|
| He surfs city circuits for the power and the glory
|
| To the cowards in the quarry you will always blink before me
|
| Its Doc Roc full-effect, campfire stories
|
| Like I «Threw Your Momma From the Train» to try to front on «Porkies»
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| He finds the garbage more inspiring than the good stuff (right)
|
| His ink sleeps while the military look tough
|
| Look, im sorry, crooked priority list
|
| But Mr. USA-up-all-night's blackened heart already skips
|
| I’m 'bout to crash this bitch to hibernate
|
| Tell Wolf Blitzer holler at his boy when he hosts «Blind Date»
|
| It goes spit on CNN and force the war back through the cable box
|
| Where M1's are like stage props aimed at latest names dropped
|
| So now he ignorant, right? |
| (right)
|
| No, he just accepts the inevitable apocalyptic syllabus
|
| Sing along, Zooka dies of chemical poison, and watch 'em
|
| Bring it on
|
| Dag nabbit, that cat’s faster
|
| I dead opinions and swap it out for the urges
|
| Of a serpent tryin to stuff it in the jam before the curtains
|
| He’s numb to the guns, thanks to the tank cams
|
| Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands
|
| Enough hell for the world’s hand baskets
|
| Enough cells for the world’s hand captured
|
| Numb to the guns, now he touch buttons that’ll re-route imagery
|
| Yes dawg, he recognize the history
|
| Yes dawg, he recognize the misery
|
| But switch for element of surprise and demise
|
| From m-16's or disco and hula-hoops
|
| Murder the fads before the fads murder you and yours
|
| Me and mine find T&A on TNT
|
| Pleasin' to the iris more than TNT on DNA
|
| Morbid but important, I know, stop
|
| Mork porked Mindy in this episode, watch
|
| POW be buzzin by the rumbling cannons and less amateurs, bystander analyst
|
| Went through the «Holy fuckin' shit I’m gonna die» phase
|
| Now it’s «Well, I’m gonna die, let’s get this barn’s sides raised»
|
| So when they ask what’s your opinion on the war?
|
| I tell 'em «War sucks donkey dick. |
| What’s the Knicks' score?»
|
| Maybe it’s his allergies, no horns and pitchforks (umm, umm)
|
| Dusk muskrat (uhmm) eleven tusk jab (uhmm)
|
| Elegant bloodbath, leggin it, egg 'em on
|
| Television preg-a-nant and medicine is born
|
| Get a mean doubt, community duel glazed over blank white sockets
|
| Lookin for a heavy seven richter to shiver the crocs right up out they options
|
| Novacaine, bloodwork, spoon though the Lochness
|
| Hostage, no shame, suck the fear out his muck
|
| So when the nozzles hit his nostrils
|
| He don’t give a fuck
|
| After all, it’s just like on TV around the clock
|
| The thorns are real and anger management is not
|
| He’s numb to the guns, thanks to the tank cams
|
| Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands
|
| Enough hell for the world’s hand baskets
|
| Enough cells for the world’s hand captured
|
| Numb to the guns, now he touch buttons that’ll re-route imagery
|
| Yes dawg, he recognize the history
|
| Yes dawg, he recognize the misery
|
| But switch for element of surprise and demise |