| As the captain survive the battle
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| Jacket made from Norwegian cattle
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| Pills in my pocket sound like a baby rattle
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| Stomp into the cockpit of the stealth bomber, fuck karma
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| Resemble Che Guevara in my recent pictures
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| Piss expensive liquors
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| Sexin' on eccentric bitches, it was in the scriptures
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| Of the good book, Salmon filleted by the good cook
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| King of my castle through a shook crook
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| Or a pawn piece, silk on the Don’s sheets
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| Hooked on the pharmies, my head stashed where the bong be
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| Da$H the field, you catch me where the Gods be
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| Mt. Olympus, Hera as my mistress
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| Eating shrimp up off a discus, bitch I really live this
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| Check the quota, smoking SOMA out in Wigoma
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| I’m on the Motorola, discussing cash of course
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| A left jab from Zab had paid the mansion off
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| Motherfucker it’s him
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| And I ain’t prayed in motherfucking months
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| So a nigga wonder where I’m going when I die
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| And lately I been talking to these blunts
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| Cause they the only ones that never ever told a lie
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying nigga
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying nigga
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| Yo, my self esteems on amphetamines, I’m a walking benzo
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| Got a bitch named Mckenzie but I just call her Kenzo
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| Stole her father Enzo, smoking in it with the tints low
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| Now I’m schizo off the blunt
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| Did it for the stunt, nah, did it for the bread
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| You in it for the love, bitch I’m in it for the head
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| Get it right, give a nigga wife rice out of spite
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| Made the game, you’re playing Fischer Price
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| Throw the dice, hit the trips, bitches licking dick
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| Kiss the 'wood, grip the Remy fifth, now I’m feeling tips
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| Get it jumping, some pussy niggas think they pumping
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| My homie showing up with something sure to end the function
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| Ain’t sane, whole squad got the set banged
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| And most of these rappers need a sex change
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| Chief hash, eyes lower than my jeans sag
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| It’s «Free Mav» 'til they free Mav
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| And I ain’t prayed in motherfucking months
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| So a nigga wonder where I’m going when I die
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| And lately I been talking to these blunts
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| Cause they the only ones that never ever told a lie
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying nigga
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying
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| I’m either flying or I’m frying nigga
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| Young and high as if Medusa cut her eyes at me
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| Cry when I’m happy, laugh when I’m sad
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| Sayin' she only going to college cause she trying to make her mom happy
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| Strung out so she don’t fuck with her dad
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| And she’ll do whatever it takes just so I could see the bigger picture
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| Realest nigga, roll the dope before a nigga dick her
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| Said she was a sniffer, but only on occasions
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| And I couldn’t say I minded all these drugs that I be taking
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| Conversations, situation got her ridin' like she brakeless
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| But maybe she wanted out, I never asked the bitch
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| But that actavis and hash and cabbage spliff will have you on some bastard shit
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| Muscle relaxers injested after I crashed the whip
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| She started screamin' so loud that a nigga had to smack her, shit
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| Now I’m a lone ranger
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| Saddle crafted after mastiff skin, so you can see I’m on my bullshit
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| Like a preacher from the pulpit
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| Or a skeezer with a full lip schemin' on a full grip
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| «Fuck 'em», ain’t much more that a nigga could tell her
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| Heads spinnin' like propellors, vision impaired, Helen Keller
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| From this Crown that I’m drowning in
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| I found a pool full of liquor and I dived in it
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| Ride tinted, lime scented, dimes in it
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| All these rap lines is just the life that I’m livin' |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Parachute Escape/ Counseling , by - Da$h. Song from the album V.I.C.E.S., in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп