| Yo, I don’t have a reason to care
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| I wrote this verse 35,000 feet in the air
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| With my feet in the air
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| Reclining like a G in my chair
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| I’m the shit and I’m completely aware
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| Tell the chef I like my steak well done, medium-rare
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| Optimistic when they meet me but they leave in despair
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| Yeah, yeah
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| I’m too greedy to share
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| Bust a nut in her mouth
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| That’s a seedy affair
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| 40 degrees, 51 layers on
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| But I’m too cold to be switching on the air-con
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| I’m a rare one, looking homeless mumbling
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| Got the locals wondering where the fuck they’re from (happy land)
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| I’m moving bookie in the duty-free
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| I just killed the whole game off
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| Stupid me
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| Mr. T put the Bruce in Lee
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| Got these kids fanning out but they’ll never be as cool as me
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| Sit back and watch the whole clan flourish
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| Rolled out the womb rocking gelled back mullets (FRESH)
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| Yeah my whole fam sluggish (SWEG)
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| Sheets of acid in our hand luggage
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| Smell the salted butter in the air
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| Moon walking through customs screaming nothing to declare
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| Yeah, you can stop waiting on a sign now
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| Lady lucks a little busy painting on her eyebrows
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| Caked in foundation getting wasted on a night out
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| I just sat at yard squirming like a live trout
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| The rejected cast of human traffic
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| Lately I been selling DMT to fund my bugle habit
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| That’s fucked, (nah) absurdity
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| I run a side hustle in experimental surgery
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| Mile long waiting list for brain amputations
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| Face lacerations and straight strangulations
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| My mans a maiden, I’m rolling to my gates
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| You roll out the session tears rolling down your face
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| Waste, you can see my soul from outer space
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| And even though I’m older now I’m still straight dumb
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| (dumb, dumb, dumb)
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| Yo, Doctor Scott coming through like me Johnny popped
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| But do I give a shit? |
| Probably not
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| I’m not crying
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| I just Eyeball Paul’d a vodka shot
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| And hobbled off like Oswald Cobblepot
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| I don’t wanna try I just want the guap (money)
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| And the green jacket
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| Fuck the tee off like a glottal stop
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| On the chopping block, so cool
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| Sipping ice tea, holler Spike Lee for the dolly shot
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| You aren’t nice ask George R. Price
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| Tryna get my face a pop up on porn star sites
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| Registration closing, sign up quick
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| I’m 12 inches tall with a 5 foot dick
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| Due to complications, I’ll be zoning out in future conversations
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| The only thing I lose is concentration
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| I fuck me life up and sue the entire human population
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| For a multipack of snickers and a can of Guinness;
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| I was too smashed to finish
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| Flipping like a Paralympic gymnast, so effortless
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| Your child’s sports day gold medalist
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| I carry an egg with a spoon on
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| At your wake crunching a crouton with no suit on
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| I just wanna get out of me face
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| And have kids with luxury car names on council estates
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| I’m not down for debate you’re not me real son, son
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| We can’t have fun but (WE CAN GET DUMB)
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| Every night my IQ’s droppin'
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| Whole crew’s out on the balcony plottin'
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| Halfsteppin' with your wife shoe shoppin'
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| Swiggin' liquor in my coffin (x2) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dumb , by - Jam Baxter. Song from the album Mansion 38, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп