| «Representin' like what»
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| «1,000 grams of uncut to the gut»
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| I’m the type that’ll keep my Nikes extra white
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| Like seein' God’s girls in fluorescent light
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| Plug camcorder cords in electrical fixtures
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| Take sensual kisses with identical sisters
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| (And they better give up the ass) Celibate bitches
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| Are gettin' held under water like developin' pictures
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| Incredible spittin', got your skeleton twitchin'
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| Your head’ll be twistin' like a demonic medical condition
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| 'Till you vomit and your body is liftin' off of the bed
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| In position of a crucifixion with your arms spread (You're all dead)
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| I’m hip-hop's apocalypse, let up and Ap claims the crown
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| Faggots, step up your rap game
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| Suckas get shook from shoves, chick checks
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| You’re a bitch, you’ll be cleanin' my kicks with Windex
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| I’m a gigolo, get a ho bitch that’s rich
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| Or a little thick chick in a 626
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| I’m consistent, you know when Ap spits it’s sick
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| Yeah, you’re different… more like a chick with a dick
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| I’m a Pisces, addicted to girls, clothes, and Nikes
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| Material and spiritual, both worlds excite me
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| Flows fracture foes' flak jackets and rip fabric
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| A rap addict badder than you backpack faggots
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| Ap’s a beast, the cake’s like crack on streets
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| You swear that you deep, but you can’t rap on beat, bitch
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| Stop the muthafuckin' pressure 'fore the pipes all burst, the mic’s don’t work
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| The blows that I throw lift you right off Earth
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| You’ll get… clocked in the face and rocket through space
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| Shout out your hood, watch your whole block get erased
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| A superhuman supersoldier, hotter than a supernova
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| Money multiplies like ??? |
| with Super Soakers
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| A true rap addict, y’all don’t never want static, homey
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| You’ll be at home gettin' that homeopathic
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| Listen… I don’t care if you Christian, Muslim or Catholic
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| God got a whole iPod filled with Ap’s shit
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| Y’all came for cream but get very little
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| 'Cause Ap reign supreme, y’all barely drizzle
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| Metaphysical, still count cheddar better than digital
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| Money machines runnin' the scenes, summon the fiends, I’m lovin' it though
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| Makin' an abundance of dough
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| Runnin' the show, pumpin' blow 'till I’m numb in the soul
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| A child from the 80's era, you couldn’t paint it clearer
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| Grew up with moms snortin' cocaine off a mirror
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| Those are all the little things that make me me
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| Couldn’t focus my brain and blamed A.D.D.
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| On the contrary, Ap is like mental level
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| Hence the mental state rate grows exponential
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| But, if y’all wanna brawl, better call Paul Wall
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| To fix all them teeth Ap knocked outta your jaw, punk |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 1,000 Grams , by - Apathy. Song from the album Eastern Philosophy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп