| CESphiles. |
| Volume one
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| You can get it, yeah
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| A handshake with a handsome face
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| Pressed suit with a clean collar
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| Hanson’ll have a chance, Dean dodger and Kent clobber
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| Puffin' on Harry Potter
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| Moustache like a bank robber
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| Got a number from the teller
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| Plus cash and a «Thank Roger»
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| We ain’t mobsters
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| Still make offers you can’t refuse
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| Got your wallet in my pocket
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| And rocking my dancing shoes
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| A watch up in my sleeve
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| Feet flashing a fancy move
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| And I boogie down for babies
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| And snatching they candy too
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| A thief like me, roll down the streets, my sweet
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| And acquire as hearts desire with his bleached-white teeth
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| Sharp eye with a brow raised
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| He’s the touchiest type
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| Uptight and always get Jason Dean for his lucky stripes
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| Stay slippin' the golden zippo that’s engraved with the name
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| And flows that’s official you can pay for the stains
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| Leave tables with over triple what I came with to play
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| Dirge Hanson to blow the whistle
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| Dean to spray with the 'gauge
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| Now fade away
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| I’ll smack the dog ass outta you
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| How could you sleep?
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| Man, I haven’t bumped nobody else album in weeks
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| I’m too busy actin busy
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| Asking myself «who is he?»
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| Chop a line for me, myself and I after I pack a philly
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| Mama said there’d be days like this
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| I believed her
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| Mama said «Don't be out in the cold, you’ll catch a fever»
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| And as far as she knows
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| I never seen a single one of them
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| Choke the barrel so the melon’ll blow
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| Wash the blood and afterbirth off, first off the pound, gee
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| Swear a «fuck you» for the phony people around me
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| I’m figuring a formula finally became our style, see
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| It sticks like decals, vomit, venom and algae
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| Do I wanna die, man I’m sure like Al B
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| You couldn’t guess the name of my demon and pull him out me
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| Wanna hang with Dean?
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| Well you’ll need a chair and about three
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| Feet of rope for me to cope if I’m rolling without cheese
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| Yeah
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| And all we men are blind mice
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| A blind eye discerned for nothing
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| With a finger on control
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| Just squash panic button
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| Stop fronting, flabbergasted
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| As if I would die for plastics
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| With a chip on shoulders bigger
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| Bigger than your bully masters
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| My road is laid with cobblestones
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| Your house is made with stick
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| I fortified the landscape, refortified the brick
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| We called it doomsday
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| So you play the plight for rhythm
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| And psyches giving the night
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| Pierce the light in prisms of sight
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| Forgiver with sore eyes
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| A slight slice, incision to bite through your lifeline
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| A knife can get 'em with my sinister blind side
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| And I can give it a succubus
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| To a life worth living
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| So we can break the measures of them tethered to thought
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| Travelled lands to the dead
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| I’ll nail your hands on the cross
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| Burn experiment I’ve wrought
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| So if you and I lost
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| Don’t sweat it
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| Get beheaded on this suicide watch, man |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Scraps , by - CES Cru. Song from the album Cesphiles Vol. 1 Codename:Irongiant, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп