Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Retarded Fren , by - JJ DOOM. Release date: 19.08.2012
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Retarded Fren , by - JJ DOOM. Retarded Fren |
| An honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay |
| Stay taking wages the anonymous way |
| Calmish, pay to the Amish selling |
| Promise me gold bond, palm itch swelling |
| With no tact, though, ipso facto |
| Wondering in pictures why his lips is so black, yo! |
| No question, an ounce of prevention |
| Is more than a pound of raw cure pure intention |
| Attention! |
| No throwing stones at the homeless |
| Or else ye yeself may end up with your dome blessed |
| Chrome dust, nano-sized particles |
| Stop telling codes through the YouTube, retarded fools! |
| Defeats the purpose |
| Greedily slurp up the surplus and burp puss |
| So nervous, you can hear the shirt must gush |
| Hush, hush. |
| Trust. |
| Villain til' the Earth crust bust |
| Self-defense, think he’s not real |
| Up until you blink twice and feel the hot steel |
| Take it how you want it, fake it or flaunt it |
| Need to put some brakes on it. |
| Shake it, dog-gone it! |
| Dead drop, leave it right there |
| Chop it off, heads bop, breathe it like air |
| You hear? |
| Study the devil |
| Played the game and choose to do so on a bloody level |
| Who sent him? |
| Steady losing momentum |
| Oh, eat a rapper one-a-day like Centrum |
| The mask is like a Gundam, dumb-dumb um |
| And it don’t matter where you come from, you bum! |
| What happens when the poles shift? |
| Won’t matter for shit who you roll with |
| Cold and stiff, hold the if |
| If in case you need a facelift sold a gift |
| Rip it like space time foam, fold the rift |
| The sun still shines in the morning |
| He ain’t promising more, but it’s definitely scorching |
| Like an iceball, off guard, soft, hard |
| Ask him do he give an F like report card |
| Out-spit em' like Jonah |
| Add bonuses, intel suggests they had no cojoneses |
| On this microphone business, it’s slaughter |
| That’s on his 3 pre-mature daughters' aortas |
| The thought was, uh, quarters, halfs, wholes |
| A roll. |
| Like good times sold like good dimes |
| It’s just begun to began to begin |
| To end, to start back again for smarter men and women |
| And their forgotten retarded Fren |
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