| «But I don’t want to go among mad people.»
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| «Oh, you can’t help that, we’re all mad here
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| I’m mad. |
| You’re mad.»
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| «How do you know I’m mad?»
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| «Well you must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.»
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| «I don’t think that proves it at all
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| Anyhow, how do you know that you’re mad?»
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| I’m back like I never left, lace up the loop
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| It’s Mr Fresh outta life where the fuck was you?
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| People talking shit about me so it must be true
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| As for what’s real and what’s not I’ll leave it up to you
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| I’m kicking back, I’ll leave you to persue all the hidden facts
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| 'Cause I ain’t on shit if it isn’t rap, you smell me?
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| Fingertips grubby, cigar shit money
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| «Honey I’m home» kick my slippers off and sit comfy
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| It’s Teeth Ledger, can’t nobody test the steez ever
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| The Malta me repper dribbling when I see treasure
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| Delta Bravo Kilo gang fatigue sweater
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| My clique will hit your city up like extreme weather
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| They never expected the devils demented twin
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| To walk in and wear the whole room like a second skin
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| Slimy tongue hung behind a crescent grin
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| Hanging from a chandalier swinging like a treble chin
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| And your dishevelled flesh resembling
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| A foetus still entangled in a red placenta trembling
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| Check the diary entry I’ve got «kill it dead» pencilled in
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| On the hour every hour please inform your next of kin
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| Citywide circus, clowns on brown
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| Rocking that loose-fitting poundshop crown
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| You’re in the wrong place wrong house wrong town
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| Wrong planet, blindfolded in speeding traffic
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| Citywide circus full of clowns on brown
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| All going round in circles on a merry-go-round
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| You’re in the wrong place wrong house wrong town
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| Wrong planet, we ain’t cut from the same fabric
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| I chew through the summer with my shrunken teeth
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| They crawled through their autumns like stray cats with sunken cheeks
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| Pick through a grubby little handful of London streets
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| Peel the pavements off and eat the bodies buried underneath
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| And I’ve been texting weird chicks for five days straight
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| Crab claws slipping round a size eight waist
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| Life ain’t safe, you’re living with giants
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| You posess all the charisma of a kitchen appliance
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| This shit isn’t science it’s godly
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| So I’ll be stood on every seedy street corner at once if you want me
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| Breath frosty tryna make funds but it’s costly
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| Drugs used to be my living but now they’re killing me softly
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| I get in where I fit in
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| I’m in the inner city shitting on some pigeons
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| Tryna make a killing leave it swimming where I’m fishing
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| Ain’t never had a smidging 'til their shit was going missing
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| Two fists full of ambition
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| Citywide circus, clowns on brown
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| Rocking that loose-fitting poundshop crown
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| You’re in the wrong place wrong house wrong town
|
| Wrong planet, blindfolded in speeding traffic
|
| Citywide circus full of clowns on brown
|
| All going round in circles on a merry-go-round
|
| You’re in the wrong place wrong house wrong town
|
| Wrong planet, we ain’t cut from the same fabric
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| So never mind what I’ve been doing
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| Just slipping around missioning
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| Sipping on mother’s ruin all day
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| Okay
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| Yeah
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| Never mind what I’ve been saying
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| He knealt on the floor praying
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| And watching the world fading away
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| Okay
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| «But I don’t want to go among mad people.»
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| «Oh, you can’t help that, we’re all mad here»
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| «How do you know I’m mad?»
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| «Well you must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.» |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Drowned Dogs, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song Off Piste, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп