Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song MEATHEAD, artist - Bishop Nehru. Date of issue: 01.02.2023
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
MEATHEAD |
| I sip a hot tea, watchin' Archie flip on Meathead |
| And left the page Rip Torn writin' what the beat said |
| On the mic he’s heat-red, ghetto and street-bred |
| All crooked D.T.s and feds can eat |
| Lead, wheat, and gluten free, he is who he is, is who he be |
| Mind your biz for me |
| It could even help you in the long run |
| What good’s a song if the jawn’s no fun, son? |
| Shogun, invisible armor level 5 |
| Couldn’t penetrate the bomber with your llama, stay alive |
| Playin' jive, beamin' on the telemetry |
| Old enough to be your uncle, prime time MC |
| Although prefer the term «rhymer», third-timer |
| Slurred word primer, dime a mama |
| And make sure it stay tight, it’s only right |
| Own the daylight and the night life, they bite trife |
| From thug to bug to happy-go-lucky shit |
| Ask him, do he really give a fuck-shit? |
| Tuck it |
| No ice bucket list, suck it |
| Struck a nugget, duck, kid |
| When I die, fuck it, I guess I prefer me goin' to Hell |
| Because Earth is truly the same, so the difference I’ll never tell |
| He send it like it’s the mail, Captain Bishy set his sail |
| Excel like Microsoft on all of these other fails |
| His trail never derail, his mental’s the Holy Grail |
| As the stress gets released from the simplest of inhales |
| It’s sealed from all the chantin', like he holdin' up a strike |
| The mic’s his only light, alikes, my only vice |
| Advice is like a satellite, I see them try and dish |
| Feel I’m dyin' in the skies, I’ve been grantin' this kid’s wish, it’s |
| Kinda ridiculous like thoughts of Saint Nicholas |
| Breakin' in, leavin' gifts for all the world’s underprivileged kids |
| Quit with the ignorance, the emperor’s legitimate |
| And learn to never give a shit |
| They never gettin' it, I’m makin' it clear |
| All the haze took focus as these jokers appear |
| I been acceleratin', I already know where to steer |
| He save face, no brakes, I’m just peepin' the rear |
| And I been livin' out of love, they livin' in they fear |
| I change ways, I’m cruisin', but never changin' the gears |
| They say that he back; |
| actually, I been at it for years |
| Dreams the side-view mirror, they closer than they appear |
| Just beware of the emperor, I play the game’s vendor |
| He raps Wes Anderson, directin' these beginners |
| Too illustrious, I leave the sucker fits to the pretenders |
| Made tenders as I played Simba, nigga, that’s dinner |
| I remember when my shine was a little bit dimmer |
| Now it’s bright, and the light, I leave 'em blind from the shimmer |
| They tryna play the blinds, I leave 'em fallin' like, «timber» |
| Designed to rise from this abyss, this kid’s art differs |
| Like shivers, he’s the coldest vibe alive, and it’s evident |
| I put the pride to the side, it’s irrelevant |
| A angel like mine know mine heaven sent |
| And this the best it gets, bitch |