| I sit around and watch the rain
|
| Nothing’s changed but its not the same
|
| Going west, stress on the brain
|
| Fuck your rent off, cop a chain
|
| That empty feeling in your chest
|
| Ate a happy meal I was still depressed
|
| Skip the test, chill and rest
|
| Found some money in an old coat think I’m blessed
|
| If it isn’t me and it isn’t you
|
| What the fuck’s going on then? |
| gis' a clue
|
| I don’t even know if I even know
|
| I don’t need to go but I need to go
|
| One too many, hobble home
|
| Regretful speech on the dog and bone
|
| Convinced yourself you don’t give a fuck
|
| Made your best shit in a rut
|
| I’m going in, I’m giving up
|
| Pray for change in the cup
|
| Shake it empty, fill it up
|
| Take your last toke, flick the butt
|
| Life’s a bad joke but I’m laughing
|
| There’s more mistakes that make up an atom
|
| Cut an atom up, time to rebuild
|
| G.O.D billed
|
| Lookin' at the cusp like he’s weak willed
|
| But the wheat’s milled
|
| He said he couldn’t hack it but climbed the steep hill
|
| Just to reach Jill
|
| The sudden racket hushed life can be chilled, keep still
|
| There’s nothing on his mind but he seems thrilled
|
| I want me rum on ice and me beef grilled
|
| Belly full of pub grub
|
| I put it in her mouth like glug glug
|
| And I don’t really like the club but
|
| I say yeah but I don’t understand
|
| Don’t judge me I’m a dumb farang
|
| And then it hit me like Clubber Lang
|
| I just need a nice place for me nuts to hang
|
| I’m kitting out me brain with a bunch of LEDs
|
| Me mind’s made up but me thoughts won’t let me leave
|
| Close the door, bolt it shut, I don’t care
|
| Middle finger’s in the air we ain’t going anywhere naahhh
|
| I don’t really wanna wile out (wile out)
|
| You can see us from a mile out (mile out)
|
| All you hear the people sayin' is (what's that?)
|
| You can’t really wear this style out (ever)
|
| Til' we’re whipping the pot (whipping it, whipping it)
|
| Out on the deck (tipping it, tipping it)
|
| Tipping the yacht with an iceberg on me neck
|
| With an iceberg on me neck (x2)
|
| (Whipping it whipping it) tipping the yacht
|
| With an iceberg on me neck (x3)
|
| (Whipping it Whipping it) tipping the yacht
|
| With an iceberg on me neck
|
| Yeah born killer in the cock pit
|
| Fumbling around for his off switch
|
| Lost in the desert head buried in
|
| The sand part-man part-ostrich
|
| Yeah I couldn’t understand it at first
|
| Slipped through the cracks in the earth
|
| Shell shocked sheep on the front line
|
| Tongue tied driving a tank in reverse
|
| Yeah, that’s you
|
| Shit, who knew?
|
| The whole crew of builders that follow me around
|
| With a drill ain’t tightening my loose screw
|
| That trigger ain’t gonna pull itself
|
| You were dumb enough to do the honours
|
| And you can flaunt your form as an undead
|
| Blood flecked new colossus
|
| You the human mollusc
|
| I’m done buying bait from these booky shotters
|
| Bare man marks there dickish demeanour
|
| Looking like bait off duty coppers
|
| You’re still sniffing that dirt
|
| Bare soil in your septum
|
| Her lips were a pointless invention
|
| She used 'em to poison her henchmen
|
| Yeah pale face, oily complexion
|
| Stack coins in your bedroom
|
| Too much of an old miser to spend them
|
| Yeah so I blame my faults on an evil twin
|
| Track suit made of asbestos, breathe it in
|
| I’m in too deep, a man can’t even swim
|
| All these kids wanna ride my wave
|
| But they can’t paddle out with a bleeding limb
|
| Put an ear to my bedroom door
|
| All you hear is a squeaking spring
|
| I grab life by it’s rat tail suck out the organs
|
| And eat the skin
|
| I’m kitting out me brain with a bunch of LEDs
|
| Me mind’s made up but me thoughts won’t let me leave
|
| Close the door, bolt it shut, I don’t care
|
| Middle finger’s in the air we ain’t going anywhere naahhh
|
| I don’t really wanna wile out (wile out)
|
| You can see us from a mile out (mile out)
|
| All you hear the people sayin' is (what's that?)
|
| You can’t really wear this style out (ever)
|
| Til' we’re whipping the pot (whipping it, whipping it)
|
| Out on the deck (tipping it, tipping it)
|
| Tipping the yacht with an iceberg on me neck
|
| With an iceberg on me neck (x2)
|
| (Whipping it whipping it) tipping the yacht
|
| With an iceberg on me neck (x3)
|
| (Whipping it Whipping it) tipping the yacht
|
| With an iceberg on me neck |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Titanic 2, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song Mansion 38, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп