Lyrics Dope Fiend '94 - Ill Bill

Dope Fiend '94 - Ill Bill
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dope Fiend '94, artist - Ill Bill. Album song The Early Years: Rare Demos '91-'94, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 11.10.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Uncle Howie
Song language: English

Dope Fiend '94

Let me get that needle, pass it
When it comes to the get high, baby I’m a junky bastard
The fastest, so I’m a flow exempt me
Let me get a dozen bagels and a ???
Now please arrest me, officer
'Cause I started lookin' in the Nautica
Polo, Tommy Hillfiger sweater
Mr. Woody Harrilson couldn’t do no better
I’m Natural Born to the motherfuckin' letter
For pleasure, I dig out your brain like treasure
Take your blood pressure, examine, measure
Discover, twenty years ago I fucked your mother
I’m a born junky, I’ll never recover
Let me get that needle, pass it, when it comes to bein' the dope fiend
Kid I got’s to have it
Let me get that needle, pass it, when it comes to the get high
Baby I’m a junky bastard
I be gettin' voodoo raw like Greek sex
I’m searchin' for six chicks wit' sloppy tits hangin' off their chests
Fuck kickin' flavor in your ear
I’d rather kick you in your fuckin' cunt, then rip off your brassiere
I’m here, Mr. I-double-L-B
A-double-L, puffin' on a nick a crack in my jail-cell
They pay me well for my services
When I murder kids, I orgasm
Then I get rid of the evidence
Left up on the scene of the crime
I spit back inside of my mouth when I rhyme
Bloody, little punk ass, rudy-dudy
Let me get your crack-rock and all your money
Sonny, I’m a fuckin' sicky
I’m a six-inch it in then toss you in the lake like Ricki
Illin' like a handy-capped spaz
Peep the soup-bass, rippin' out the frame of your ass
Walkin' through the rain, I saw you
You were holdin' hands, I’m startin' to feel like Orange Juice Jones
I don’t really care if you just returned your glasses
I’m a take a butcher knife to your sorry asses
(?) Stop fantasizing about pizza-pies wit' (?)
Body parts n shit, get your fuckin' throat slit
'Cause I’m a modern crazy guy, you’re all gonna die
So why even bother actin' fly on the plane to Chicago
Call Hertz rent a rental car
Think your crazy 'cause you got a scar
Think again, I’ll cut you again
I’m a put that doody-casserole inside of your mother’s oven

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Artist lyrics: Ill Bill