Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fish Meat, artist - Durag Dynasty. Album song 360 Waves, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 25.03.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Nature Sounds
Song language: English
Fish Meat |
| The black plastic, I never leave home without it |
| American express my thoughts and anger |
| Only disgusting beats, I up chuck somethin' real real sick |
| When it come to rap, this our shit |
| Just listen to this sound, this shit is hypnotic |
| Outside of this hip-hop, you not no monster |
| I got a rusty gem star, that’ll open up yo face |
| Like fish meat you real real soft |
| I walk off, pullin a joint real real calm |
| I should put a shot in your ass (chill, chill, nah) |
| Fuck around, hit a artery, I’ll kill Pa |
| He liked how I’m scarred, I’m poking no laws |
| Chinchilla blanket, pretty little scarlet |
| Pullin on a cone, take a little breather |
| We fuckin like animals and livin the life you only dream of |
| Here’s a monster |
| Herbal Essence my call, that’s word to my sponsor |
| Lay on the floor, here’s the glitch, we the generals |
| Fresh to death, flatline a rat in a blink |
| Kemetic link, catholic bring a bag of those Benjis |
| Crime family rap, denjy and dirty |
| My killas strain hard like athletes |
| I used to bag birdies, bare hands — powder my pores |
| Absorbing the high and the reason my mind is dirty |
| Remember Juan, Don, Julio |
| Move, the motor’s runnin |
| Cheese slices, studio full, this stuff phenomenal |
| Bombing you with Hannibal spits, my nautical shift |
| Suitin off audible clips, it’s the dynasty |
| Fire one round clique, mashin on yo minor league |
| Cheeseburger and fries, supersize me |
| Tasmanian manie, millionaire flex with the hatin and paintin |
| You really some fuckin crazy |
| Passport poetry, fiery diary |
| Words of wizardry |
| Polygamy guarding variety |
| Max the ministry, mock the mackin |
| Cure of swackin |
| You can blame it on the Nautica fashion |
| Go against this animalistic, twisted |
| From studying doctor York, to fuckin a mistress |
| Keep yo distance, door stoch your 3rd eye surgically |
| Jump shot from bird’s eye 33 |
| Masonic degree, green in the frontal leaf |
| Put green in my bank account constantly |
| Make magic, disappeared and reappeared graphic |
| And fuck up the beat — something tragic |
| See the blue still rising in the air |
| You on dusty roads wrestling with raps |
| Rick Flare the champ, the chain |
| Throw a rag on your waves |
| Cut chemist, basically I’m nice with a blade |