Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Smoke Rings (feat. Del the Funky Homosapien), artist - Dirty Heads. Album song Cabin By The Sea, in the genre Ска
Date of issue: 18.06.2012
Record label: Five Seven
Song language: English
Smoke Rings (feat. Del the Funky Homosapien) |
You’re right, I am a rotten bastard |
I admit it |
But I’ll tell you something |
Even though I’ve got a lot of hate inside |
I’ve got some friends who ain’t got hate inside |
They’re filled with nothing but love |
Their only crime is growing their hair long |
Smoking a little grass and gettin' high |
Lookin' to the stars at night |
This is ridiculous, I have a sickness |
The grass is always greener, I said fuck it, burn the picket fence |
Pestilence, eyes rolled back, pure masculine |
Moody little bitches I’m force-feeding you some estrogen |
Always keep you wet, see, mermaid pussy |
Ever seen the movie Kids, no legs, don’t push me |
I am making sculptures, you are using plaster |
Screaming while your dreaming MCs need a dream catcher |
You’re not in my mind, you can’t get the concept |
You’re not on my level, you might need a dubstep |
Walking to the death, not walking with a cleft — lip |
Sharp as an arrow tip, I’m just so sick of it |
The smell is your upper lip |
And I’m jacking off a sparrow while I’m crashing a pirate ship |
Slow as molasses, quick as a whip |
This beat’s a filthy toilet, and I’m the fucking shit |
Rollin' up some grass, call it weed, huh |
(Landing on your feet, call it speed, huh) |
Nothing but love, gettin' high up as the stars at night |
My feet walk steady, my heart beats heavy |
My well ran dry, had no luck at the levee |
I’m lyrically a genius, like Fergie and Jesus |
It’s like a lightning bolt hit the tip of my penis |
The opposite of cleanest, parallel with passed out |
One sip away from runnin' round with my pants down |
Apparently I’m underground, sound-breaking barriers |
Everybody take cover, danger area |
I got a feeling this beat’s been to Hell and back |
You can see the horns stickin' straight through my Raider cap |
Smoke rings billow out the window of my Cadillac |
This beat’s the weed, and I’m the fucking cataract |
Rollin' up some grass, call it weed, huh |
(Landing on your feet, call it speed, huh) |
Nothing but love, gettin' high up as the stars at night |
Nothing but love, gettin' high up as the stars at night |
Diesel I rap-rock, my mascot is Sasquatch |
Rap for the have-nots, thieves get a padlock |
, if not call Matlock |
I’ma slap box with your ass while I snap shots |
Dunces that think outside the box and outfox proud cops |
As soon as the style drops, I’ll leave your towel mopped |
I’m wild high, more arms than an octopus |
More buttons than I could push, to ignite ya tush |
I manufacture the type of goods |
That keep the Africans bootlegging the new President |
New resident in the White House |
Like a night owl, with the lights out, provide the right route |
Parasites pounce and nibble on whatever they can fiddle with |
Which ain’t much, cause they illiterate |
Hit ya like a dirty syringe from a personal friend |
Thirty shurikens, inserting inside your skin |
Rollin' up some grass, call it weed, huh |
(Landing on your feet, call it speed, huh) |
Nothing but love, gettin' high up as the stars at night |
Nothing but love, gettin' high up as the stars at night |