Lyrics Wot Jah Mean - Cult Mountain, Milkavelli, sumgii

Wot Jah Mean

Yo, I just want to be a millionaire and have brilliant hair
61−6 initialled on my silverware
Less is more, I think I’m rich when I’m poor
6 million ways to die, let’s suggest some more
Impresario, modern day Lafario
I suggest we work on falling off and see how far we go
I’m someone you should never trust
Doing oxies in the toilet on the MegaBus
Off the Geiger meter
«Nice to meet ya» is something I would say if it was nice to meet ya
But it isn’t
I’m the shit, just admit it
Lukey bought your bitch a hooptie just to fuck her in it
Cult Mountain partisan
I’m like a chair with a missing leg, I’m hard to stand
Balling out on half a gram
Turned up, dancing on your grave like Carlton Banks
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
It ain’t complicated kid, it’s really kind of simple
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
Cruising in the whip, 61−6 bumping out the window
At least I’m writing rhymes to this
Sniffing line, committing crime music
Don’t temp me cause I might do it
Pussy all wet
Imma glide right through it
Then I’m back about like I hang around
B.K.
from the shanty town
Rocks my hand-me-downs
But that’s my little brother so fuck it
We swap bitches like it’s nothing
Fuck these bitches, no rubbers
If he got it, I got it
If I got it, he got it
Means the whole team got it
That’s cause the whole team hit it
That’s the G code that’s the real team spirit
Smells like teen spirit
Feeling Kurt Cobainish, cocainish
A-class on the A-list
Outrageous
Trainers ain’t got no laces
Laigon till I die
All my skaters carrying razors
Do you know what a switchblade is
Cause I know where your ribcage is
And you know what a flick knife is
Cause I know where your windpipe is
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
It ain’t complicated kid, it’s really kind of simple
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
Cruising in the whip, 61−6 bumping out the window
I’m looking at your green with envy
Cause your glass is half full
Mine’s completely empty
I’ll find a way to explain meself but it would help
If I even knew what I was trynna say
The sky is gey
A broken clock is wrong 86 398 times a day
To the second
I’m stepping on the third grid
It couldn’t get any worse kid
What can I say?
I’m an optimist / scientologist / freelance gynecologist
I’m deadpan like Ryan Gosling is
Pissed cause my can of Ting’s lost its fizz
Apart from that I’d say I’ve got a gift
I make music for the office lift
Fuck champagne, I’m popping crisps
When I take a seat
Yeah, you can make me a plate but I won’t stay to eat
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
It ain’t complicated kid, it’s really kind of simple
Wot yah mean?
Wot yah mean?
Cruising in the whip, 61−6 bumping out the window