Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gray Duck, artist - Doomtree. Album song All Hands, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.04.2015
Record label: Doomtree
Song language: English
Gray Duck |
Ride on Blue Boy dipped in a Uni |
Dickin on a squad car, vickin on a fully |
Sick as a Sunni, strapped with a bobby |
Pullin on the pin, he Tutankhamun |
Boots to the ceiling, boostin the serum |
So sincere, brutes new to the feeling |
Ridin on the old scene, buck if you hear me |
Bucks for the fabric of your fiber |
Bricked, dips, blicks, big, brighter |
Bees in a trap? |
No, bees in a hive |
Gee is for Geezus, Gs and a nine |
Oh is for O.G.s, grease in the eyes |
Crease in the khakis, piece to the side |
Forgotten youth when older mutants played Magneto |
We believed the strip and never plagiarized their credo |
Fashion cutter for the fascist, dirty-lipped and truly goony |
Looney Tune Schooly Ds come off cartoony |
No King Cloak and Dagger, Lavabanger Legacy |
No anonymity, no forced validity |
False Hopes, we got close, man, we got ghost |
Tough shows and rough roads until every sign said, GO! |
Take the skins |
Hang em on the walls |
Not trophies, just reminders |
What is left here when we fall |
Ay, I’m pushing up on your tempo |
She too stoned Nintendo |
I’m Vint Cerf, she Pink Floyd |
I’m jumpin out the window |
Sike, I’m fly, I float aight right by |
Cut my own moat |
Get by with my chose fam |
Dismantle thrones |
All the fuck in your station |
All up in your dark |
Awkward in ya Marc Maron conversations |
Call em out the park |
Hangin out then Van Halen cabs in your city |
All up on your block opposite the cops |
Y’all should all fuck with me |
Style like a Cadillac |
Crash with a battle axe handy |
Gucci store fire on the couture |
Then planes, trains, and automobiles, I’m John Candy |
Y’all just can’t stand me |
I make em feel ridiculous |
Pickin apart they postures put together meticulously awful |
In the air, hostile |
The fingernails, watch em |
Sit and stare, box em if I gotta |
Panic is the fashion |
I arrow to the action |
Pied Piper through all types a shit |
Types like me y’all ain’t fuckin with |
Go get it |
Or go without |
You going nowhere |
Run that shit into the ground |
Go get it |
Or go without |
We go for broke |
And run that shit into the ground |
Struck by lightning |
With a hand in the sand |
Came to with a fist fused in glass |
Closed the circuit skull full of white light, mouthful of ash |
Sparks on the pavement |
Dragging the chain |
Anchor’s off, man, lost it again |
Steady on gotta push through the rain |
Weather in the veins, came for this |
Train for this, fuck |
Made for this, pray they miss, duck |
Duck gray duck gets up and running |
Rest fall back like a bridge in London |
Brand new brakes I never touch em |
You’re all spin move, you’re doing too much |
Rental car, trick cigar |
I’m just laughing while that whole thing blows up |
Looking like I’m Joakim Noah |
Black mask, take your gas money |
My name is Sims but call me David Lynch, I make em act funny |
I ain’t afraid to change lines, state, date, or face |
I’m option two when you skate or die but still survive on basslines |
At least for the next eight months |
Then I change up like it ain’t much |
You do the Roger Rabbit in Shape Ups |
Still blabbing bout some frame up vision |
MN living gray duck risen |
Nay fucks given, way subliminal |
Class-war criminal trying to make my stance more pivotal |
See what is left is suspect |
The Pepsi Gen went crystal meth |
And punk rock dads scream rap is dead |
I laughed until I lost my chill |
I’m really real, half Built to Spill half Kill at Will |
Half shark alligator and my Philly filled |
Mill City kid in the field |
Gritty is in the blood, proof is in the track |
Fifty in the tank, on you like a Mac Truck |
Roll with a ton on my back |
Better back up fast |
Go get it |
Or go without |
You going nowhere |
Run that shit into the ground |
Go get it |
Or go without |
We go for broke |
And run that shit into the ground |