Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Come On, artist - Grayskul. Album song Zenith, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 16.09.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: ASCAP)
Song language: English
Come On |
| Yeah |
| Serotonin saliva |
| Cross bred with the wicked of men and God’s lighter |
| Fly high or die, D-I-Wi-Fi rules the sky so I comply |
| Never quit dick, Clark Kent shit |
| Lois Lane that I paid your arrhythmic |
| Sloppy pigment ign’ant |
| It’s just a mater of arithmetic |
| Witness the chemist the sick pit |
| I manage the pen and I’m quick wits |
| Like my dick is to your bitch lips |
| And you think I’ma give a shit? |
| You right |
| I might just dump a thick brick in your crib, Goodnight twice |
| Cause I can give two shits, the kids nice |
| I’m ruthless and ill wit' it, Eric Wright |
| I’m apparently very dope, mean when I grip the mic |
| I’m like an overdose of dopamine, hold on for dear life |
| Excellence is implemented every time we enter |
| Any booth, we Ferngully sabretooth |
| Let it consume you become the exorcism move dude |
| Survive the exorcism, Now you’re wearing Moon Boots |
| Plant the flag and Instagram it |
| Or fabricate a portrait of accomplishment to show people that you advantaged |
| Only the land win |
| Coast to coast still clear and you accept that we the only one still standin' |
| Got a six figure track to hit 'em wit' |
| Some classical syllable spit acid, ribonucleic fashion |
| 'Till every ligament in your body is burned to ashes |
| No need to ask «Who is he?» |
| after this you disaster |
| Turn your jewels to molasses, laugh at you when you’re blasted |
| Staple some fake lashes, lame and you ain’t crackin' |
| But here’s a sample of eight straight to the crafted |
| Titans in Hades' basement with lightning hittin' the masses |
| Michael and Jeffry murder everything |
| Bring it back to life, prepare it for reentry |
| NASA slimeball fire for the fuse hair |
| Diagnose that’s the chosen why are you here? |
| Ain’t it fuckin' clear right fuckin' now |
| Why I fuck around? |
| Fucker just get down |
| Real rap juice, real rap dudes |
| Paper boys on that bike with the good news |
| Come get it, Let it infest your mind like a sedative |
| Embed it, lettuce, though of divine and let it live |
| Your debted, wetted, hollow tech nines and we let 'em rip |
| Who knows what I’ll fish when I leave this recording booth |
| Products will lay him in hate, housing at minimum wage |
| Thousands watch lagers break, and drown a calamitous lake |
| Gothima cinema eight, towns in a fit of rage |
| We live in these with no escape |
| There ain’t no shame in our game we do our thing son |
| Come get some |
| These simple words just don’t move me |
| Be real |
| Yo what you want |
| There ain’t no shame in our game we do our thing son |
| Come get some |
| These simple words just don’t move me |
| Be real |
| Yo what you want |
| The buck stops here |