| I was strung out and awake in a corner of north Hanoi
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| Having sapped every chemically traceable form of joy
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| Monsoon season’s in session, I’m back at 7
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| If you’re trying to find a way to get wasted, then call your boy
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| My drinking problem got abandonment issues
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| I passed it an absinthe and a handful of tissues
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| And told it, 'Come we hit the streets'
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| Freak
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| Fetch the fire blanket
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| Whip up an entire banquet, tell 'em the Messiah’s landed
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| I piece the week together with my camera roll
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| Scrolled back until my bug infested hands dissolve
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| Chicks hop across the city swapping gash for gold
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| I dialled the number, juiced her up, poured a glass
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| And drank her soul
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| Yeah, step aside, why you in shot?
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| Gather 'round, kids, pull its wings off
|
| Check the tape, the last hour was foggy
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| They just hit the lights and found us all passed out in the lobby
|
| And the hotel staff must be sick of me now
|
| Probably wanna get the guillotine out
|
| I can’t remember where I met this chick
|
| Sprawled across my bed, and shit’s
|
| Getting ever stranger by the second, bitch, bitch
|
| They must be sick of me now
|
| Probably wanna get the guillotine out
|
| 'Oi, cuzzie, what city’s this?'
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| Shot of straight liquor, shit’s
|
| Getting ever weirder by the minute, bitch
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| I was puking off the back of a motorbike in the afternoon
|
| My tailored white suit shines brightly in a darkened room
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| Wake next to what you can’t consume
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| Yeah
|
| Lap dances in the last chance saloon
|
| And these rolling hills watch me as dumb, grumbling, neighbours
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| Eyes like malfunctioning lasers
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| Scatter all across the terrain, comfortably weightless
|
| Legs like piles of dust in his trainers
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| Shit
|
| Why’d you rap about shit you’ve never taken?
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| Bruh
|
| You’ve never been in that situation
|
| I saw his face pressed against the glass
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| Spewing drool
|
| The dried residues never left a mark, but it’s cool
|
| Yeah
|
| We rang room service
|
| Powder on this smooth surface
|
| Who can bend the rules furthest?
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| «Curses!
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| We lost him in the alley, Chief»
|
| The whisky in the waterworks is drawing out my aggy streak
|
| The hotel staff must be sick of me now
|
| Probably wanna get the guillotine out
|
| I can’t remember where I met this chick
|
| Sprawled across my bed, and shit’s
|
| Getting ever stranger by the second, bitch, bitch
|
| They must be sick of me now
|
| Probably wanna get the guillotine out
|
| 'Oi, cuzzie, what city’s this?'
|
| Shot of straight liquor, shit’s
|
| Getting ever weirder by the minute, bitch
|
| They must be sick of me, sick of me
|
| Probably wanna get guillotine, literally
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| I can’t remember where I met you
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| But I still press you
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| Plus we got my whole stash to get through, get through
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| (Got the whole stash to get through, mountains)
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| Excuse me
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| Yes, sir?
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| A room, I’d like a room please
|
| Single room, or a double room?
|
| Anything wrong, sir?
|
| What, no, nothing
|
| Luggage? |
| Yes, yes, I do |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Guillotine , by - Jam Baxter. Song from the album Touching Scenes, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп