Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song E-ER , by - DJ Scheme. Release date: 21.01.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
E-ER |
| I’m sippin' tea, beat what I eat |
| Kicked up the feet, no Assassin’s Creed |
| Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee |
| Good reflexes like you knocked at the knee |
| X’d out defeat, you, I delete |
| My boots from Greece made with feathers from geese |
| Counting loose leaf with the face of deceased |
| Count up the bread, count up the yeast |
| This is for my nemesis, white folk |
| If you pull up, then you’re dead, uh-uh, rifle |
| We gon' cross him like the symbol on a Bible |
| Call him Spongebob 'cause he movin' life without spinal, huh |
| Never not woke, my gland pineal |
| On the patio fucking Princess’s peach, Mario |
| Yellow Louis V overalls on me, look like Wario |
| On the mic, I’m an animal, hear the cardio through audio |
| If you want beef, capisce (Hahaha) |
| Smokin' on tree, hashish (Yow) |
| She said, «No, don’t leave» |
| Baby, I’m oh-so green (What's that shit 'cause it better not be) |
| We got Dracs, sticks, all type of blicks (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh) |
| Blood on my back, don’t get caught in a blitz (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh) |
| Chopsticks, got me a pick (Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh) |
| Steppin' on shit, put my foot in a brick (Eeh) |
| Fuck you mean? |
| (Yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup) |
| Huh, oh, I’m ready (Haha) |
| Yuh (Oh, shit), yuh |
| I’m in the land of the lost, now I’m chill, Jack Frost |
| Yeah, my conscience like Constantine, that hot sauce |
| Jack Skellington limbs 'cause I’m known to pop off |
| And I’m one with the force, so this saber is my sword |
| Got the dick tucked in like RuPaul |
| Two bananas and a boat in the U-Haul (Huh) |
| And the dope look sick like Wuhan |
| 'Nother brick comin' in from Tucson (Racks) |
| I was too piffed up when a nigga walked in |
| I was servin' up bricks at a low end (White) |
| I got too much boof stuffed in my pants (Huh, huh, huh, huh-huh-huh) |
| I could probably fuck around, build a snowman (Huh-huh-huh, huh-huh-huh) |
| And it’s stone, no Mason, say I’m chillin' with your bitch |
| It’s for him and her like Rozan |
| 'Cause this shit go down when a nigga get whacked |
| Should’ve never put your life in a ho hands |
| If you want beef, capisce (Hahaha) |
| Smokin' on tree, hashish (Yow) |
| She said, «No, don’t leave» |
| Baby, I’m oh-so green (What's that shit 'cause it better not be) |
| We got Dracs, sticks, all type of blicks (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh) |
| Blood on my back, don’t get caught in a blitz (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh) |
| Chopsticks, got me a pick (Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh) |
| Steppin' on shit, put my foot in a brick (Eeh) |
| Kick a bitch to the curb if she don’t speak with manners (Hee, hee) |
| My house sit alone behind gates by the manor (Hee, hee) |
| My new hoes look whiter than Carlos Santana (Hee, hee) |
| My bitch from the hood, mamas hustled on camera (Hee, go) |
| School from the seventies |
| Could’ve been dropped by the first time I signed for my boy |
| That was English like city of Oxford |
| Just finessed some pussy, I need me an Oscar |
| I thought I want kids 'til I sat by a toddler |
| Recorded two hits in one hour at Doppler (Two) |
| I walk in my house naked holding my chopper (Frrt) |
| We do the same shit, we change names just like soccer |
| My jewelry box looking like Davy Jones' locker |
| I want Addison Rae to become my doctor and check on my privates (Woo) |
| Put her in a skirt and a scarf like a pilot |
| He didn’t make it past the first clip like a pilot (Frrt) |
| I’m sick, I need medicine before I riot |
| My bitch pussy sweet, it help with my diet |
| Can’t go off the label, boy, I gotta eye it |
| I gotta smell, I gotta taste it |
| Haha, hahaha, yaow, frrt (On God, slatt) |
| What’s this, what’s this? |
| What’s that shit 'cause it better not be |
| Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh, eeh (Go) |
| Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh, eeh (Slatt, damn) |
| Yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup |
| Hahaha, oh shit |