| I’m putting in the work, holey Hilfiger shirt
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| I shine me shoes even though they’re still filled with dirt
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| I’m not tryna' find a wife, where the groupies at?
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| And fuck a round of applause I make the booty clap
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| Hoes on me dick cause I look like Spooky Black
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| I’m a swegged out sewer rat schoolin' cats
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| Shooting crack like it’s only H, with me lowly mates
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| Claustrophobic in open space
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| Ram-Ell-Zee futuristic, Cold Crush retro
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| Get it poppin' like Diet Coke plus Mento
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| At a sleazy slow fuck tempo
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| I slap a Guardian reporter with a rolled up Echo
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| Fuck you pay me, black Patrick Swayze
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| I got your girl Dirty Dancin' on my pole naked
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| Five karats in my ear like Biggy Smalls' baby
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| Bad Boy like Diddy putting ice in my Bailey’s
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| Kanye gone crazy, the North West is my baby
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| My circle’s three sixty and you niggas can’t play me
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| You don’t want war so lie low surrender like Dido
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| Show your white flag got nine slags in my iPhone
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| All insecure and they hate it when they get ignored
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| Toe nails painted cause it’s what I got a fetish four
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| Ahead of my time we sag shit, you ain’t ready for
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| COTD you pussy boys are on your menopause
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| Money gripper fuck bitches in crystal slippers
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| Double dip her, Black and Decker driller, liquor sipper
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| Never tip a stripper, rapper bitches in my room on Insta
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| Only difference between me and Lee is I can say nigga, nigga
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| Ol' Dirty flow, God worthy, hold the Glock sturdy
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| Back to hefty kitty driller where’s my skrilla nigga?
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| fuck a hood rat
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| I’m a Master Splinter, putting trees in these hoes
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| Fuck a sprinter, Usain going insane turn your squad to sprinters
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| Heavy drinkin' drunken master, Sleazy F the pastor
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| Magnum wearer, Magnum drinker, back to slapping rappers
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| Lying, cheating, screaming Annunaki slash rasta pass the ganja
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| Only an eighth baked
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| Trippin' off the petroleum space cake diesel
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| Slippin' on your linoleum, acting like a pack the gauge or the Deagle
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| More lethal than American needles
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| Rock star, friend of the beatles, me, God, Jah and Lennon are equals
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| Angels hum when I enter cathedrals
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| Blunt resembling steeples spooning Nuns undressed in the fetal position lit
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| My Dick Dastardly got em' licking lips
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| Cause this hansom devil is evil with the D fool
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| C-O-T-D crew in this bitch, big Brick
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| Brick, Peli, Peli, syndicate kid very blitzed
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| Triangle reference triple six, double agent Winston Smith
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| I got my Cold Sag jumper sitting nice on your sis
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| Extra large and of course there’s no knickers underneath
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| It’s the high chief Stinker son
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| Come from off the balls you ain’t no Mystic Meg or else you would of seen the
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| future
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| Me hijacking all your goods for means of my amusement
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| Fuck a two’s blud, I want your whole food bag
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| Slummy’s got the rum I’m moving fuckery off this juice blud
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| Slummy’s got your honey cooking munchies for the crew son
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| Blah conglomerate niggas
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| Groupies run and nibble on my peanuts nigga
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| Pistacio Prince give your pounds to this prick
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| I ain’t giving back a penny no it’s Damned on your strip
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| Taking what I’m sellin', spending what I’m makin'
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| You see my house fuck bringing home the bacon
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| Steak and eggs, take your head, bitch make my bed
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| Listen hoe I’m a pimp I don’t pay for sex
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| Mouse traps and a bucket of fish, ducking the CID’s
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| Up in your crib, fucking your bitch
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| Nearly died last night but I’m cool so it don’t matter
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| Big somethin' by my side like Chewbacca
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| No choice, hustle or die
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| Life’s a bitch so I cum in her eye
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| Swamp rap’s got her weak in the head
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| Dumb bitch spent a week in my bed
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| Snap your neck have you seeing life from a different angle
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| He had to step all I left of him is a smoking boot
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| Filthy scoundrel with a triple barrel row a boat in a moat of booze
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| Built me castle out of broken vodka bottles
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| Cans of Holsten Pils I’m droppin' like a drunken chemist
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| Fucking leg it, I was going to say something deep you wouldn’t get it
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| Sever your skull and head it, meg ye'
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| Blood stained cold sag athletic sweater
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| You’re in a bad spot and it won’t be getting better
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| String a farmer up to a garbage truck when his harvest comes
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| If the cro’s grit, oh shit, I char him up |
| Then spark me carpet blunt with half a lung
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| Decked in all Cold Sag Athletic don’t sweat it, respect the throne
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| Peasants or else heads will roll
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| My life is like an endless fall from grace
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| With nettles and thorns on the way
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| Why I always keep a freshly rolled joint on display
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| Yo, happy days, stay toe tagging eighths, wait
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| I’m stoned out my face, pawning my brain for a quarter of haze
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| These are glorious days, all of them wasted
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| Oh what a shame, is what I thought I should say
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| The break is over, COTD we’re taking over again
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| I’m no saint, but I leave a fragrant odor, cause I bathe in doja
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| Scruffy vagrant stoner unabated roller
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| Stuck in the camp not talking to Frank
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| I’m a highly ranked piss head, my brains blank
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| I’m getting tanked, you’re cerebral cortex is getting shanked
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| Necking shots to suppress this alchy angst
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| So, fuck clean livin'' I been crooked since birth
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| My nation’s damned and cursed to self destruct with a thirst
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| I reach the pinnacle of success to choke at the last hurdle
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| I get legless like Hershel and torture frauds in my circle
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| It’s them, what the hook, Tony Broke’s back
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| You’re wack, so stop rapping and smoke crack
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| My killing jar is full but I can make room for you
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| I’m a one man super crew in a super crew |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cult Of The Damned, artist - Cult of The Damned. Album song Cult Of The Damned, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп