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 |