Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Don't You Even Go There, artist - Demigodz. Album song Deluxe Edition: The Godz Must Be Crazier, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 18.11.2003
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
Don't You Even Go There |
For losers and beer abusers, screw ups and human sewers |
I’m a cesspool myself with a head full of wealth-y |
Rich and sick shit thoughts that helps me to sell CDs |
I mastered in givin' niggas gasps |
As if asthma is constrictin' to clog the blunt passages |
Act as if you don’t want an ass whippin, see? |
Sometimes bein' a pussy can have its advantages |
Isn’t it glamorous to get your asses beat |
By one of the last emcees, 'til your cancellin' seats? |
If the fans disagree, I make house calls |
You keep it up, it’ll be tough bustin' nuts without balls |
I’m just an outlaw who doesn’t belong |
So strong I make my own squad look dumb on our songs |
So when I put one of 'em on, niggas get so mad |
I had to get a car system with a headphone jack |
I’ve existed for eons, peons run, even three-on-one |
My rhymes outshine like I got a neon tongue |
In battle I’m gifted, it’s like I’m cata-calysmic |
The baddest to spit it, my optics read data and digits |
Like I’m Neo when I master the Matrix, faster than spaceships |
But bring it back to the basics |
I’m a flow fanatic, memory is photographic |
When I was a little sperm, blasted out the prophylactic |
Now I blow the static off your dusty phonograph |
like the noses on some coke addicts |
You wack jokes’ll get your back broke |
Cause I keep it gangsta like Ice Cube with jheri curls and black locs |
Fast to blast like white teens in black coats |
Walkin' in math class and clap till the gat smokes |
Your girl jocks me and clocks me like a track coach |
You thought you had a doper flow, I don’t think so |
You can call the feds and the army or the fuckin' navy |
But you can’t stop a wild animal hungry with rabies |
And I’m just that, while you sayin' you got gats cocked |
Your whole platoon is lookin' like the Mister Softee mascot |
I give a fuck if you Believe It or Not |
I’ll rip Ripley’s limbs off and beat 'em with 'em till 'is body drops |
It ain’t a question if this shit is the bomb |
I’ll choke your bitch with a thong and dump 'er off on your lawn |
It’s funny the way I lick shots off in the sound booth |
I’m so hilarious I pull walk-bys in a clown suit |
My niggas keep it gator |
And while your album’s in stores now, it’s in the trash can later |
I hate a fuckin' emcee who think that they can face the god Celph Titled |
I’d rather use a rifle than a microphone to snipe you |
Certified officially, we got the ill flow |
And make headlines like a corduroy pillow |