| VERSE 1:
|
| Hey yo
|
| I illustrate the acetate
|
| Envisioning the animé
|
| Sipping on the Alizé
|
| Pissing in the alleyway
|
| Listen to my cabaret
|
| Monday wishing it was Saturday
|
| Latter-day Saint
|
| Make your dinner date salivate
|
| 'Cause I’m sweeter than carrot cake
|
| Two thumbs up
|
| Like the Fonz does on Happy Days
|
| Drop a pineapple-shaped hand grenade
|
| The flavour’s all natural
|
| Like homemade lemonade
|
| Let me demonstrate
|
| How I’m popping off in your house
|
| Like a SodaStream
|
| Just so you notice me
|
| Prototype poetry
|
| Flowing-type vocally
|
| Overnight brainchild
|
| Growing in the ovary
|
| Spitting so chemical
|
| Mr Incredible
|
| The essence of creation
|
| Contained in my testicle
|
| So egotistical
|
| You don’t want to get technical
|
| I’ll turn you to a very sad spectacle
|
| Huh? |
| You’re a tad skeptical?
|
| Don’t make me pull out the pen and pad sketch for you
|
| Draw the tarot card, blud
|
| It spells death for you
|
| Draw the curtains on your life
|
| It spells death for you
|
| CHORUS:
|
| I’m trying to draw that phone number sippin' on Old Number 7
|
| So can I get a sign from the heavens?
|
| VERSE 2:
|
| I’m the communist plot
|
| Police want to stop me on a Stockwell tube
|
| With eight shots from a glock
|
| Rock solid crops for the chicken head flock
|
| Spitting red-hot
|
| Ripping out the dead rot
|
| Got the game in a state of deadlock
|
| And once you put the name to the face
|
| It’s bound to make your head nod
|
| And make your toes tap
|
| Fingers snap back
|
| Call and response
|
| Yeah, I’m bringing that back
|
| I’ve got a bin bag of baggage
|
| Sick in the cabbage
|
| Vicar in the parish that’ll split up your marriage
|
| Slicker than your average
|
| Sipping on the Kestrel
|
| Peppercorn crushing with the mortar and pestle
|
| There’s more to the war-torn vessel than the battle scars
|
| Or the camouflage that I wore on the special occasion
|
| It’s more vodka and kahlua
|
| And cream for the caucasian
|
| Peep the rate of inflation
|
| With skunk inhalation
|
| Biters catching two-face with gum inflammation
|
| Mask and a gun inclination
|
| Put I stay mellow
|
| Puff an L
|
| And get drunk in the basement
|
| Fist of a derelict
|
| Punching the pavement
|
| CHORUS
|
| VERSE 3:
|
| I stay charged off the caffeine
|
| Professional on tracks like world-class athlete
|
| Kids in the back seat
|
| Yelling «Are we there yet?!»
|
| You’re already there
|
| Bet you think like a sperm
|
| Still swimming for the egg
|
| Never too proud to beg
|
| I admit it like Q-Tip
|
| «Can I get permission to kick it?»
|
| If she says 'Yes' that’s fresh
|
| If she don’t, it don’t really matter
|
| Move onto the next!
|
| These kids will be quick to forget
|
| I’ll scratch up your cd
|
| Fucking with my tape cassette
|
| No burning
|
| Just dubbing
|
| Blow the whistle
|
| I’m just bugging
|
| You better quit mean-mugging
|
| Since the age of a baker’s dozen
|
| I’ve been up on the stage
|
| Hear the rage, cold-crushing the percussion
|
| And you don’t want to go home with concussion
|
| Jump in the firefox
|
| Try and think Russian
|
| Caught red handed but I admit nothing |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Old No. 7 , by - Jehst. Song from the album The Dragon of an Ordinary Family, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп