| 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 |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Don't You Even Go There , by - Demigodz. Song from the album Deluxe Edition: The Godz Must Be Crazier, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп