Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 1,000 Grams, artist - Apathy. Album song Eastern Philosophy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.03.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
1,000 Grams |
«Representin' like what» |
«1,000 grams of uncut to the gut» |
I’m the type that’ll keep my Nikes extra white |
Like seein' God’s girls in fluorescent light |
Plug camcorder cords in electrical fixtures |
Take sensual kisses with identical sisters |
(And they better give up the ass) Celibate bitches |
Are gettin' held under water like developin' pictures |
Incredible spittin', got your skeleton twitchin' |
Your head’ll be twistin' like a demonic medical condition |
'Till you vomit and your body is liftin' off of the bed |
In position of a crucifixion with your arms spread (You're all dead) |
I’m hip-hop's apocalypse, let up and Ap claims the crown |
Faggots, step up your rap game |
Suckas get shook from shoves, chick checks |
You’re a bitch, you’ll be cleanin' my kicks with Windex |
I’m a gigolo, get a ho bitch that’s rich |
Or a little thick chick in a 626 |
I’m consistent, you know when Ap spits it’s sick |
Yeah, you’re different… more like a chick with a dick |
I’m a Pisces, addicted to girls, clothes, and Nikes |
Material and spiritual, both worlds excite me |
Flows fracture foes' flak jackets and rip fabric |
A rap addict badder than you backpack faggots |
Ap’s a beast, the cake’s like crack on streets |
You swear that you deep, but you can’t rap on beat, bitch |
Stop the muthafuckin' pressure 'fore the pipes all burst, the mic’s don’t work |
The blows that I throw lift you right off Earth |
You’ll get… clocked in the face and rocket through space |
Shout out your hood, watch your whole block get erased |
A superhuman supersoldier, hotter than a supernova |
Money multiplies like ??? |
with Super Soakers |
A true rap addict, y’all don’t never want static, homey |
You’ll be at home gettin' that homeopathic |
Listen… I don’t care if you Christian, Muslim or Catholic |
God got a whole iPod filled with Ap’s shit |
Y’all came for cream but get very little |
'Cause Ap reign supreme, y’all barely drizzle |
Metaphysical, still count cheddar better than digital |
Money machines runnin' the scenes, summon the fiends, I’m lovin' it though |
Makin' an abundance of dough |
Runnin' the show, pumpin' blow 'till I’m numb in the soul |
A child from the 80's era, you couldn’t paint it clearer |
Grew up with moms snortin' cocaine off a mirror |
Those are all the little things that make me me |
Couldn’t focus my brain and blamed A.D.D. |
On the contrary, Ap is like mental level |
Hence the mental state rate grows exponential |
But, if y’all wanna brawl, better call Paul Wall |
To fix all them teeth Ap knocked outta your jaw, punk |