Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cognac, artist - Monster Rally & Jay Stone feat. Brandon RaysonDate of issue: 13.10.2014
Song language: English
Cognac |
| Oh yeah, thank you bartender |
| Fill that glass up, mhmm |
| [Verse 1: Jay Stone} |
| Slide it to the right, to the guy |
| With the hardly open kinda swollen red devil eyes |
| Slow motion like when you rubbing lotion on her thighs |
| Take your time and savor increments |
| She sippin absinthe through a piece of German chocolate licorice |
| Her nipples ticklish, reactions are ridiculous |
| You laughing but you into this |
| Get you high, we eating Cap’n Crunch and getting intimate |
| Go to sleep, what’s for lunch? |
| You and your ginger friend |
| Now watch How to Be a Player, learn how to be a gentleman |
| You got it backwards, like it’s Simpson then it’s Ashford |
| Live fast crash faster |
| So rhetorical no answer for that oracle bastard |
| Vandalizing portable animatronic caskets in traffic |
| Safety hazard, bullets made of lead |
| Safety made of plastic, couple in his head |
| He dead, damn that was tragic |
| She shot him lying in the bed, his money in the mattress |
| It’s practice |
| And every O face that she has, it gets added to the average |
| I’m batting that, pinch of Bali Shag, jack hammer and a dab of wax |
| From the B’s, I’m the bees' knees as a matter fact |
| As I ratatat I pitter patter through your habitat |
| Causing chitter chatter, I’m just that cool |
| Freezing, steezing, chiefing a fool on the beat |
| Then I eat 'til complete and I’m full |
| Like I seen broccoli with the taters (With the taters?) |
| Country fried steak, poached eggs, and Welch’s grapes |
| I got drops of Cognac on my gators (On your gators?) |
| Screaming «It's all good» from Diego to the Bay |
| I just bought a new jacket, yeah I got it from Stoney |
| I don’t even watch hockey, I’m just supporting the homie |
| That’s that New York Ranger danger, yo get on the phoney |
| And when I answer the phone I’m in the streets, I ain’t home |
| Monster Rally on the beats, and yes me, I’m Jay Stone |
| Your mom’s favorite date for dinner, want the meat and the bone |
| I’m like hold on miss, you want the fish and the marrow? |
| I’m in the IROC '87 Chevrolet Camaro |
| Eating cannibis soufflé, sipping on an IPA |
| I’m the pharoah of the Bay, from my grandma Che |
| To the 14K draped on my bicuspid |
| Cold chilling by the lake, away from niggas on that sus shit |
| I’m the stigma of a stoner, Smoker’s Hall of Fame inducted |
| Try to get inside my head, my brain’s encrypted and corrupted |
| All these psychoplasmic tangents leave you nauseous and disgusted |
| Like drinking raw eggs with some mustard, tapioca and some custard |
| I’m a soldier with no musket, tryna fuck shit up |
| Plastic explosives, a couple nugs and some Reese’s cups |
| I’m speeding goin fast as fuck, she said that ain’t fast enough |
| I hit the gas I’m 'bout to bust, grab that ass that fluffy stuff |
| She giving me that sweet that nasty, that gushy stuff |
| Teddy on repeat, close the door, turn the music up |
| And pour a little more courvoisier in my cup |
| It’s been a long exhausting day, I need some vegan donuts |
| Hey, it’s over folks |
| Yeah it’s over |