Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Piss and Vinegar, artist - Diabolic. Album song Fightin Words, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.09.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: War Horse
Song language: English
Piss and Vinegar |
I’m a grown man still full of piss and vinegar |
More sinister than Satan possessing a Christian minister |
I twist the indica, spitting the shit to finish ya |
‘Cause life’s a bitch, I convinced to let me stick my dick in her |
My first assignment’s rhyming with perfect timing |
Finding the words describing what’s driving a person climbing |
Required to spit fire, the fire that burns inside him |
Is even more berserk than meteors and Earth colliding |
But I’ve been converting a feeling, cursed and violent |
With others lost like Jack on that deserted island |
I’m trapped, making noise when all I heard was silence |
Now worshipped like my birth was sliding through a virgin hymen |
I vibe with lower classes, rose from smoking ashes |
So cold, when solar flashes explode, I froze the gases |
(On top of the world) Reverse the polar axis |
'Til both of Atlas' shoulders crack into broken fragments |
I roam the planet, find dough and rock the mic with |
A captive audience—my live show’s a hostage crisis |
So tell these fools the jewels I drop are priceless |
Combine the righteous side with my demonic likeness |
To bless you unless you fake when lenses zooming |
Starved for attention like anorexic cadets saluting |
I just kept it moving, the movement’s a revolution |
‘Cause Illuminati views my body as less than human |
(They're shooting) The proof’s when bullets are fired at ya |
And they’re flying faster than rockets Nazis supplied to NASA |
This the final chapter, that deciding factor |
Back to get it cracking like chiropractors with spinal fractures |
Cyphers under streetlights, party on the rooftop |
Boondocks with my goons, beats on my boombox |
(Rock on!) ‘Til the break of dawn when the dude drops |
You already know the flow, so here we go |
Cyphers under streetlights, party on the rooftop |
Boondocks with my goons, beats on my boombox |
(Rock on!) ‘Til the break of dawn when the dude drops |
You already know the flow, so here we go |
Go find a rapper spitting as dope as this shit |
I’ll show you a Muslim Jew become a Jehovah’s Witness |
So tell your friends and foes, hoes and bitches |
I’ll move so many units, iTunes gets motion sickness |
From social misfits living as cold and vicious |
As prehistoric creatures preserved in frozen liquids |
We don’t roll with sixes to visit the road to riches |
But I’ve driven getaway from heights in a stolen Civic |
I’d skate, then lay low as Jakes go patrol the district |
Getting blown by overprivileged hoes who drove Eclipses |
(I live this) While Rocky glamorized doing Molly |
And I’ll probably lose somebody tonight to blues and oxys |
I’m like an alien inside a human body |
Been nice since Giuliani was prosecuting Gotti |
I might use a shottie, a knife, and even razors |
To slice these vegan skaters precise as beaming lasers |
With spite, a freak of nature on mics, I’m homicidal |
I’ll follow primal urges to murder when dropping vinyl |
I read demonic bibles, drinking holy water |
Then piss on the deals Interscope and Sony offer |
I got a cult following full of lonely stalkers |
Who’d shoot the president so they could fuck Jodie Foster |
This for the orphaned kids whose home’s a battle fortress |
Where bullets to the head are dying of natural causes |
Not for the corporate corn chips who want to pass the torches |
To kids as corny as Mac Miller and Asher Roth is |
Imagine what would happen if I was that supported |
They’d travel towards it like the Sun pulling a planet’s orbit |
The game’s that distorted—smoke and circus mirrors |
Lyrics don’t matter, it’s a matter of perseverance |
Since my first appearance became a classic feature |
I’d kick it like I learned the crane stance from Pat Morita |
I’ll smash a fashionista, snatch her platinum Visa |
And make it rain codeine ‘til rappers have a seizure |
Rush to Cedar Sinai, giving anesthesia |
While I’m going in your pockets and boosting a bag of reefer |
This will not stop ‘til I’ll rock a packed arena |
And I’m bigger than the fucking wine mixer in Catalina |
Here’s the thing: it’s the Catalina fucking wine mixer. |
Okay? |
POW! |
Are you saying, «Pow?» |
Cyphers under streetlights, party on the rooftop |
Boondocks with my goons, beats on my boombox |
(Rock on!) ‘til the break of dawn when the dude drops |
You already know the flow, so here we go |
Cyphers under streetlights, party on the rooftop |
Boondocks with my goons, beats on my boombox |
(Rock on!) ‘til the break of dawn when the dude drops |
You already know the flow, so here we go |