| Spit like scotch blenders, Glen
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| Lower spending, look at all the shots I sended, beef ender
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| Come home, niggas pretended, that’s ok
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| The Nile ain’t a river in Egypt, every move strategic
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| White check, checkmate, hit your gate
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| Drop the thirty-eight, pass the brake, now we straight
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| Like heartache, tough luck mate, young havoc where you at
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| Pull a sack out your hat, twist that uptown magician
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| Dime bag technician, fly rides with the booming system
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| See four in the ignition, suicide missions with Israeli
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| walk on water for the Christians, daily news late edition
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| Spitamatic sleeper cell come in like artillery shell
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| Raw as hell MCs, we won’t ask, don’t tell
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| You ain’t parallel with the bell, call me Dr. Phil
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| Old saw bones and craft ill poems, through the first stone
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| Burn the whole bone, Backwoodz Studioz nigga, roll your own
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| And back from a payphone, and don’t even talk that bullshit neither
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| Come back like Jesus on Easter with two heaters
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| Bloody Sunday, no more playing BK, check the replay
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| We harder than your PJs, turn the tables like a DJ
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| Have you like Albert: «hey, hey, hey!» |
| How you like them apples
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| Nasty as chitlins and scrapple
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| Let loose these ticket holders on the red carpet
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| Or the rose hotel, the gold blows smoke running
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| Give me that necklace stunning, ‘cause I wanna
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| Eat before I sleep and I need funding for a campaign
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| A saccharine stain, no shame, shackles for chains
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| Saw massacre came, ‘cause I felt like it and
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| That’s the stricture’s picture, from scripture
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| Loose leafs, cool teeth, bedtime story mixture
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| Broke a light fixture, drank an elixer
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| Have hit standing in line saying thank you mister
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| Minister sinister, Sisyphus push rock as punishment
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| Take pharmaceuticals, reduce fingernails to cuticles
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| I let loose an army to reenact a musical
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| We can all march and proclaim murder to be beautiful
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| and Jacob’s Ladder to reach the fruit, so I’m telling you
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| I’m selling you 999 ways to the country
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| Spines snapping days at the ministry of plenty
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| Prayer light glare off the refraction of your camera
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| You make me snore like Al Gore but you can’t handle her
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| Meters break back inside their cages, ‘cause I sold funk in
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| Four different stages, the pages flipped, the just tip
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| Then I lost focus, collapse on your bread and butter like locust
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| You can have you mister opus, I grab the ropes and
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| Build the platform out of oak, there’s no straggling
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| Brights haggling, carpet bagging on this road to
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| A pharaoh’s phalanx couldn’t give enough thanks to please Nero
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| We viral spread infections instead of blankets
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| Protection as the kid gets, out blood boiling
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| Spoiling soylent green, take a seat and you’ll see what I mean |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dead Drummer Boyz , by - Billy Woods. Song from the album Camouflage [Re-Release], in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп