Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dumb High , by - Demigodz. Song from the album Killmatic, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 04.03.2013
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
Dumb High |
| Batter up, I’m bad as fuck, fuck a battle, y’all are nerds |
| Nerf balls in the Super Bowl, absolutely absurd |
| Serve rappers like soup bowls with scones for dessert |
| Surfs up, you’ll certainly get sunk |
| Drive your whip off a pier with you tied up in the trunk |
| This is truck music, ask your girlfriend 'cause we fuck to it |
| Inside her SUV, I’ll set you free |
| Rip your soul out your body, I’mma let you see |
| The cosmos, God’s close, turn your flesh into compost |
| I’m confident, dick big as the Washington Monument |
| I’m grimy as fuck but still walk amongst the opulent |
| Abandon ship, rip your spirit out then I’ll banish it |
| Then channel it with ancient manuscripts and amulets |
| Come from Willimantic, kids are speakin' that Spanish shit |
| Don’t throw me on the beat if you don’t want me to damage it |
| I’m on some other shit now, just for the fuck of it |
| I get down like Chris Brown do, but Mo' cut a bitch |
| My money grows on trees, a dough farmer |
| Out for presidents to represent me nigga like Shawn Carter |
| They say my rhymes are sorta like a suicide bomber |
| With marijuana, leave your city smokin' like Osama |
| The Demigod-father here to settle problems and beef |
| All my utensils is metal niggas I’m starvin', let’s eat |
| Handle the job for any faggots thinkin' Godz is sweet |
| The Prodigy that bring Havoc when D.R.'s Mobb Deep |
| It’s Hell On Earth if I don’t cake up much quicker |
| The kid can’t function with no paper, like a printer |
| Like Ninja Turtles with no Splinter, strippers with no tippers |
| Hip hop with no niggas (Yeah right) |
| I got a motherfuckin' plan to get it crackin' fam |
| Have you held up and stuck like a traffic jam |
| Where your bars at? |
| We don’t horse around |
| This ain’t for all that, you could get tortured now |
| You ain’t killin' the game, your Escalades are four cylinder |
| I’m a super villain spittin' villainous slang |
| The Dillinger bang or was it my voice? |
| My weapon of choice |
| Blogs taint my links like they stealin' my chain |
| You ain’t the master but I’m willin' to train |
| Fuck a rapper turned singer, dog I’m feelin' no pain |
| Got my body on earth and my brain on the moon |
| I’m in two places at once like MF Doom, Ah |
| Get ya lifted like cannabis sativa |
| Lyrically foot loose like Canibus in Teva’s |
| Haha, It’s unanimously Ether like when… |
| QB’s speak on the Jay/Nas beef |
| You cop Haggar briefs at TJ Max and Chaps |
| I don’t fuck with that, I’m Polo strapped |
| I don’t know you dawg, so no more dap |
| We the best alive, you couldn’t get this fly |
| With Miyagi, chopsticks, and pesticide |
| «You tell him I’m coming and Hell’s coming with me you hear?! |
| Hell’s coming |
| with me!» |
| Man listen, I’mma show you what you’ve been missin' |
| I spit with conviction like rap’s my religion |
| Smash up your set then I’ll bail like I’m Christian |
| Too late for you to escape with Snake Plissken |
| A man on a mission, man on a wire |
| I’m Denzel bringin' you hell, Man on Fire |
| This shit is gettin' old so I plan to retire |
| But plans often change, now my name’s on your flyer |
| The innovator, old school Demigod originator |
| Stay fresh, keep my notebooks in the refrigerator |
| Dictionary dictator, sorta like a waiter |
| The way I serve emcee’s will make you wanna tip me later |
| No need for the gratuity, I’m tearin' that ass up |
| I never pass up the opportunity |
| To take your shit talk and flush it, I’m no joke |
| Boy ya shoulda known by now, Meezy does it |
| Outside my house is investigators |
| So I invest in gators to rip the chest of a perpetrator |
| Plus the K-9 squad of German Sheppards and Rotts |
| And when they catch you they gon' show you what Heaven is not |
| I’m a man of mystery, put them grams on the triple beam |
| 50 grand when I spit my speech (It ain’t shit to me. Bitch!) |
| No serial on my gun (yea), I got tricks up my sleeve (yea) |
| Frosted Flakes on my blow (aw), Lucky Charms in my weed (what up) |
| Ridiculous but inconspicuous (aww) |
| Crime computers has my name with 'dangerous' in parenthesis (yea) |
| I burst a gasket, I’m off the hinges |
| These are syringes filled with criminal vengeance (aw) |
| I get the dough (get it), I got the props (got it) |
| Sniper on speed dial, I call the shots |
| Alert the marshals, the Feds, yeah the policemen too |
| Just know if faggots didn’t exist then neither would you |