Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dokken Rules, artist - Aesop Rock. Album song Skelethon, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.07.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Dokken Rules |
I spell 666 star 6 9 click |
Give his telephone viking funeral, bye bitch |
Treble hook, two birds, cheap thrills, free meal |
Vacate jelly stone park witcha brie wheel |
Half his life was likely to be Nikes on the L-train |
Gnawin' on his dog toy, pocket full of deer blood |
The only thing that’s stoppin' him was Dokken in his ear buds |
Up around noon |
Found everything he loved crushed down to a cube |
The New Kowloon chowline, two leads routing medicine and gruel |
One is hemorrhaging money, the other jettisoning fuel |
Identical water separated pools |
It was clever |
But it wasn’t ever neighborhood degenerate approved |
In swooped jukebox Fonzi, probably |
Bolts on his neck one tubesock wonky |
16 panel head mutton chop and ambulax |
Double pits to chesty got the espy on a camels back |
Handle that huffy wit' a timely parry |
And get all up in your kitchen, money, Guy Fieri |
There is a wildly elusive moment of bliss |
In the spaces between being told you are shit |
I would openly suggest identifying the closest |
And collectivly agreeing to meet if the sky opens |
Ma’am? |
Id like to speak to a supervisor |
Back alley brawl over party guests who want a |
Steak tartare but we’re hardly pet food |
Charlie check booth, brody’s right |
Youre gonna need a bigger boat and a holy dive |
Aggravated people driving lemons over limits |
With a neck bop stemming and a cartoon physics |
Smart move taught never broadcast holes in his armor |
End up another poached foriegner |
Handcuffed down to a toothless tease |
Who got an X-marked mouth and a hooch machine |
With eyes that tell the story of the woods that fetter |
And a chest that sells the ending when it’s pushed together |
Been through the desert on a horse that nameless |
Now I’m driving through the city in the Porsche naked |
Shores invaded by the new marines |
That tear the roof off this mother like Beauford T |
Untrained pet with a pen name |
Chest pain, bet he outlive his own endgame, anyway |
Step around the rhythm of the red rain |
Get away, car horn, stand by, tenth frame |
Spare me the dramatics to ratchets, smile purdy (pretty) |
Flashlight strapped to the calf of a wild turkey |
Package of mild jerky, captain to aisle 30 |
Theres a man with a mask an an app that can dial Fergie |
Sir? |
I’d like to speak to a supervisor |