Lyrics Quintuplets - GDP

Quintuplets

You catch the back last from paragraph
Laugh and its little rapper trash
Got the powdered bags stashed in the caravan
I sneeze on cats like there’s dandruff in their fur
They leave it up to their manager to do the work
Might have some punchlines, but I don’t see the fire in her eye
They think life is Eddy Murphy party all the time
So let the vocals at the mind
So crystal clear on his mic, but crystal meth on his mind
Record labels got more up their sleeves than just dirty arms
It’s a disconcerting mob
Everybody wanna be rappers and talk about themselves like superheroes
Your group is a crutch, and your producer’s a weirdo
Got room to grow, where’d your career go?
Nowhere, cause you sound the same you did years ago…
King of the underground
Every song is like album, each albums sacred
The word play makes sense in ways that can’t be explained
So just play that, funky, funky
Its crunk butter bubble gum sucker MC’s
Get left like the bodies exhibit
Knows karate, plus a shotty and biscuit
Brass knuckles, switch blade, Swiss army, a kitchen
A stiletto, a screwdriver, and some scissors
Hit the lab all winter, new jams
And we can battle if you wanna get embarrassed in front of your friends
Got your chicken head all impressed
Punch her in the titty, down shifting in a benz
She come on stage and then I came on stage
Run trains like you wanna puff a name brand’s
Black like Obama
GDP is like the dark side of the force, on the dark side of the moon
Spark the dark side of the spoon, put it on the far side, shoot
Hand me a tie, she keeps passing me by
I’m never getting a job and I’m never going to die
Married to the game of quintuplets
She doesn’t listen to know one, doesn’t respect nothin
Young kids be like, «GDP, I relate to you.»
(thanks)
I tell em «That's what happens when you pay your dues»
There’s some things that money can’t buy
And for everything else there’s armed robbery and homicide
The king is some shit some folks don’t even know about
But the few who do feel honored just to smoke us out
Gold label on the house no doubt
Girls book me in their towns just to put me in their worthless mouths
We smoked an L
Useless.
Useless, useless.
Pistol Pete, Slangcorp.
Run for mother fucking cover.
Litterally, lit-trally, litrally.
Aoi