Lyrics Ay - Cult Mountain

Ay

Just because I end a statement with «mate» doesn’t make ya me mate
I snatched the steak from your plate, then slap you in the face
They call me Nigel Mansell-'tache
With jazz in the background, fondling a bag of cash
And you don’t need to be told but I’m rare
Me blood coagulates into solid gold when exposed to the air
I burn trees, and blame Smokey the Bear
I’ve got flair, but the rest of me’s not there
I’ll be as happy as Pharrell once I stop larrying to Hell
Jack your stash of Gary’s and Valiums to sell
To meself, to help with the grief
While I’m dragging a gazelle by it’s hind legs with my teeth
«V» is for the Vallies, I need to forget the women
Who are now me exes, 'cause I couldn’t make it off the Z-list
And cult road man don’t slow dance with the money crop
And get caught, with both hands in the honey pot
I woke up, and hit the snooze button
This beat, makes me wanna sing the blues fuckin'
I tried to walk away but I stumbled like Macy Gray
I wrote this verse quicker than the time it takes to say
Aye, aye yo
It’ll be okay if we say so
Pay slow, we wanna war but we don’t wanna pay though
Ohh, today was a good day, today was a good day
Today was a good day, today was a good day
Yo, all these bitches wanna blow me off
They say I’m a nice guy, no I’m not
Okay I get it, it’s the D I give 'em
You say you want realism, I’m what real-isn't
That’s real noble of you Trell
Just tell it how it is, I hope no one’s doin' well
People tell me just knowing me is swell
Throw your bitch a white tee, a super soaker would’ve helped
(Wow) She got a hell of a rack
Intelligent?
Of course not, she’s a Trellion fan
I called Scott, what’s the mot' kidda
He said «Where you at?», I said I’m off the coast kidda
Bring bitches, ones who cook roast dinners
And roll Swishers, and only drink Olde English
In gold pimp cups
Wrestle Jaws to the cooking song
Lose a leg and carry on like there’s nothing wrong
Fuck rap, lets make Russian Donk
I moved out to Moscow like someone put me on
People often ask me what the fuck I’m on
My reply: «just your mum»
I’m fuckin' dumb
I try think of clever shit but nothin' comes
So I stick with what I know, nothin' much
Your girl might not swallow when I bust a nut
But tell her if her cookin' sucks, I’ma fuck her up
Like aye, aye yo, bitch, don’t ever bring me my steak cold
You better do what I say hoe
Or underneath a gravestone’s where you’ll lay holmes
But today was a good day, today was a good day
I didn’t even use my AK, I guess today was a good day
Huh, I guess I’m fast though
BMF shit, I get a half O
Buy a chain, buy a whip, but, fuck a smartphone
Cause I forget my pass code, I’m way too intelligent, shit
Bag of that fuego, I’m blazin' an element
It’s that Laigon regiment, North West resident
Gore-Tex, North Face, Cortez
I’m steppin' in the place
All-white Cortez
Turn yellow in the rave
I’m limpin' like a pimp with a cane
I’m on my Ricky James' shit sniffin' cocaine
That’s a hell of a drug, a hell of a drug
I’m benevolent but I’m an incredible cunt
Like, Cassie’s pussy
I have a kushy odour on the eds and them Xannies pushin' me over
Like, I hate being sober like Sosa
I’m all up and down
Bipolar my controller, cult Ayatollah
I am body drugged, it’s my persona
Change the channel, find the controller
I ain’t a little rat, I’m Fritz the Cat
Rock a Hitler 'tache, and keep my daughters in my Fritzl flat
Like, aye, aye yo!
Follow me deep in this cave, hoe
Like, I got my payroll
It’ll be okay if I say so
Today was a good day, today was a good day
Today was a good day, Today was a good day (or was it?)
It goes: one step, two step, three step, four step
Deliver Oz’s to your doorstep
Bitch, tell 'em who the man today
I’m at the rave, twisting J’s the size of Sandy’s brains
Yo, I tell a bitch skank away (skank bitch!)
But she’ll find me at the bar, sippin' Tanqueray
Shotty in the boot, might let it bang today
Hottie in the coup, givin' shines, made me slam the breaks
Ya bitch down to ride
Used to fucks with uppers, but now she love the downward time
Suttin', Suttin', Suttin', Cult Mountain life
Blow lines, no time for your sound advice
Plus I’m live-o, fill the styro'
I say I’m Milk, but what do I know?
Nothin'
I’m like a high rollin' cyclone
I’m on the yacht, you on the lilo
Fuck 'em
Yo Silk, pass the foil for the Oxy fix
I’m at the gate, movin' horse like a jockey’s whip
Your wife is on her knees tryna cop the dick
Look down like, sorry girl, I gots' to piss