Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cabin Killer, artist - Doomtree. Album song All Hands, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 12.04.2015
Record label: Doomtree
Song language: English
Cabin Killer |
| Like the clock in the gut of the 'gator |
| They all talk (tick) |
| Earned every dime in my pocket |
| They pocket watching |
| Eyes wide—you must’ve gotten in the belladonna |
| Watch if you wanna |
| I work in that Castellano lisp |
| French Resistance, Oxford comma |
| Get press like I’m all cuff and collars |
| Winter’s brisk, double down, if you’re gonna stay on it |
| Seasons here even freeze the deep water |
| But it keeps the genes hardy |
| So feed a fever, the winter we starve keep |
| Razor in the cheek, robin in the ribcage |
| Braided in the street, hair down in the crib stay |
| Easy on the beat |
| Mouths get easier to feed |
| Meter’s running, every minute gotta matter—move |
| I got a minimum to meet |
| I’m in that two-seater beater bumping Big Freedia |
| Scheming on something I could eat up |
| With this dime and this nickel |
| I might take down Visa for the three percent I feed them |
| I am not your profit |
| I am Travis fucking Bickle |
| Kill a paparazzi lobby |
| Bring the body down to Lockheed |
| Stuff it in a Maserati |
| Just playing, that’s just the funny shit I’m dreaming |
| While I’m pouring your Chianti |
| Serve a couple tables and I’m off on my Bianchi |
| I’m outie kemosabe weaving all these zombies by me |
| Money, money, money all they ever fucking say |
| I should’ve left yesterday |
| Okay I need a couple bucks to fill my cup and you know this |
| But holding on to something gold never was the focus |
| Never fell for the hocus pocus, it’s all bogus |
| Bullshit, goldfish, guppies, yuppies fucking disgust me |
| Ugly man, I’m sick of this shit so I untie my wrists |
| And I undock my ship |
| I dream a new planet with only fun occupants |
| So I uncock my hips and I dance like an idiot |
| See how electric my city is |
| Lake City pacemaker |
| Put the pulse in it |
| Big Sims and I keep it authentic |
| Running Man jump back, bio-funk divisible |
| Hungry Jack swing, hide your trunk visible |
| Steel wool brillo teeth, sleepin like I’m Hampton |
| Leak blood in widow’s peaks, geekin up vampin |
| C’mon Dougie I been rap—frrserious |
| 4 minus 5 (1) Fantastic Furious |
| WWF, www dot calm the fuck down right now |
| Or you’ll get WW3'd, all of you dummy to me |
| Money turn putty when fuddy duddies act funny with me |
| D-Bo everything, eenie meanie that’s mine |
| I said gimme guh-gimme gimme gimme plenty |
| Beamer and the Sim simma |
| The Vimmy, the semi |
| Petty bounty, any penny or any fedi |
| Homie is you relevant? |
| Lemme get a piece |
| I’ma retell it, develop it, sell it to the beast |
| Rollin in a bread box, mayo spillin |
| On the ceiling, bailing 187 |
| Satan kneeling, hailing, doing my bidding |
| Grillin, never chillin, I’m Hella Frreal |
| Peeling on God’s lemons, spillin milk, drowning kittens |
| Sick hurlin, feelin like I’m illin, wheelin, and dealin |
| Mike the Thriller, chill killer it’s been a minute |
| You can show and prove, I’ma stand and deliver it |
| I’m peeling off into the city lights |
| Dripping like Dali in the alleyways |
| I had my way with the ways of the world but the world found its way back |
| Gray slacks, paid tax |
| Laid tracks to the last spike |
| But that was last night |
| Wait um, that was just the D M T um |
| We young, we dumb, we full of gun powder |
| We got em back against they feelings |
| They bent, they went willing |
| We didn’t push em |
| Nah, tell them fuckers to Stay Puft |
| Marshmallow men, harsh mellows |
| When they get in ya space then settle in |
| Never let em again |
| Throw piss, throw em off of ya scent |
| And never let em again |
| They placate like we here to pretend |
| Never let em in |