Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Routine, artist - CES Cru. Date of issue: 05.01.2017
Song language: English
The Routine |
| Six times for your fatherfuckin'… |
| Yeah! |
| Everybody doin' this shit |
| Everybody doin' this style |
| Claimin' they coming to serve us, but they can’t even take what they dish out |
| So I’m dissin' dummies 'till I dismount |
| Murderin' 'em with the routine |
| Both eyes brake light red |
| Hot head full of blue dream |
| Flip scripts to a new scene |
| Crown fit for a true king |
| Cosigns don’t mean shit, but your friends change like a mood ring |
| Make deals with a firm shake |
| Now the hand 'round me true clean |
| And if y’all don’t be dealing with contracts, I don’t know what the fuck y’all |
| mean |
| I been at it for a minute meaning I’m releasing and leaving nobody breathing |
| Killer City can ache when the Ces is leaving |
| Anybody relating? |
| Then let’s get even |
| Strangely I’m an oddball and I’m on call 'till I’m on y’all |
| Kill pins but I won’t draw |
| It’s Godemis with the bone saw |
| (Ayo Godemis) |
| You gotta roll another cone of that dank piff |
| Rank shift based on my statement |
| Catastrophic when I came in, same same spillin' entertainment |
| While you were using pillow cases, I been grindin', filling blank discs |
| If you ain’t willing to take risks in this business, then you really ain’t shit |
| See I’m feelin' real exhilaration |
| Buildin' ill affiliations |
| Sasquatch to these half-flocks |
| Killer City in my playpen |
| Foreground to their backdrop |
| They can chop but they don’t make sense |
| Way they' talkin' made a language with dopplegangers |
| Claimin' coppyin' gang twists |
| Fuck a half-broke, never claim rich |
| Black smoke in my brain stem |
| Backstrokin' this cake with these rap mackerel, but they can’t swim |
| See these rap shows are my main bitch |
| Back home in my state, lit |
| Stack though, and I may grip |
| Cause that plateau where I can’t sit |
| Then whoever’s been soundin' like Cinderella’s on some bippity-boppity-boop |
| Ain’t nobody different, now they all gon' copy on some bippity-boppity-boop |
| So we dab and dippin' and we pop and drop it, got that bippity-boppity-boop |
| Bippity-boppity-boop, bippity-boppity-boop |
| Bippity-boppity-bo |
| Hippity-hoppity-ho |
| Miggity-miggity-Mac is just kickin', the venomous rappin' |
| I’m packin' a Mac in the back of the act |
| And I don’t wanna hear all this rappity-rap |
| I would rather just listen to yackity-sacks |
| Like yackity-yack, your bitches don’t talk back cause I’m packin' a Magnum 44 |
| all black |
| Everybody doin' this shit, when they kickin' flows, I just laugh at ya |
| Rappers now are just robots dressed in women’s clothes like Ex Machina |
| And throwin' money, throwin'-throwin' money sayin' ain’t nobody out there cold |
| as I |
| You got a golden watch, you got platinum teeth but, «I can’t afford to buy kids |
| fucking school supplies» |
| Ces Cru, that’s my posse, that’s my crew gang, that’s my blood cousins |
| Since the 90's when we was Mob Deepin', and Wu-Tangin' and What-Whatin' |
| I didn’t give a fuck about your little septum ring, and your fur coats, |
| and your fuck buttons |
| I don’t care about rappers using autotune, how 'bout you make me a list of who |
| the fuck doesn’t |
| That’s me, just Mac |
| Light two cones, more for us |
| With the light blue smoke, pour it, stir it, and I might spew flows for purpose |
| That’s you, just whack |
| You all high fructose corn syrup |
| Just diabetes, just junk food |
| You’re gonna die eventually, fuck you! |
| Then whoever’s been soundin' like Cinderella’s on some bippity-boppity-boop |
| Ain’t nobody different, now they all gon' copy on some bippity-boppity-boop |
| So we dab and dippin' and we pop and drop it, got that bippity-boppity-boop |
| Bippity-boppity-boop, bippity-boppity-boop |
| Bippity-boppity-boop, bippity-boppity-boop |
| Bippity-boppity-boop, bippity-boppity-boop |
| So they sell it, they soundin' like Cinderalla, yellin' «Bippity-boppity-boop» |
| Now we dabbin' and dippin', then poppin', droppin, got that bippity-boppity-boop |