Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yeah Suck Face, artist - Kid SleepyDate of issue: 07.12.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Yeah Suck Face |
| Matt Lauer’s swollen penis, that’s emotionless |
| All I want is more wattage and voltage, and a wrench |
| Type appendage for stanzas and verses |
| Curses and quests, johnny, bad ass bandit (and a) |
| Half polished Panda, born under red planet |
| Commanded Persephone to plant a pomegranate |
| In a gambit to bandage such sad stranded language |
| Famished, no two quarters stacked to build a moat |
| Anguished, no five bucks to give Indians to float |
| Banged it, dope, til I was rubbing two sticks |
| Sparking fires to smoke cigarettes found in the streets |
| Betcha can’t sit, withdraw, empires fall |
| Refill that prescrip' from Doctor Last Call (be right back…) |
| Awkward people gamble with Mobsters who smile |
| Wants to sniff her Cognac, brandy, Carlile |
| The art style? |
| Arshile, soft smile, Gorky |
| More please, expressionist five finger two forties |
| Whore thieves mention this torpedo accident |
| Rhyme scheme fact it is the best so rap with this |
| Praying mantis with jowl rich generous answers |
| Venerate those circumstances y’all’er lost in Atlantis |
| Flow anti-pedantic, god damnit build levees |
| Rhythm hard rock, jettis, rhymes thicc, two C’s |
| Sliding into third base, ump said you’re safe |
| Pitch below the waste and I’ll steal home plate |
| Biding time impediments don’t get in my way |
| Yeah… suck face |
| (Optimus Rhyme) |
| In there like swimwear, y’all think Tim care |
| Not quite I got pot to light |
| Cause you got to fight for your right to celebrate |
| Open up your minds, get high, and elevate |
| You can’t anticipate how I incinerated the cityscape |
| Make the titties shake, in all 50 states |
| Step off the plane walk through the gate |
| Trimmed up stash looking fresh on my face |
| Gotta fly out, rock the show |
| They call me patty cake baker man, I’m making dough |
| Hustle milk, smooth as silk, flowing through my veins |
| On the highway hundred twenty miles per hour switching lanes |
| Got inner initiative, a’int asking for permission |
| A’int a chance we care what the lames think |
| Only came here to dance and drink |
| Smoke a few blunts and represent |
| If a honey bee on my lap, birds, it’s heaven sent |
| Popping out on the scene like some true ass G’s |
| Cool ass steez, and a bag of trees |
| To combust this, you can trust |
| I’m back to stack G’s and give zero fucks |
| Rough and tough with the fire herb |
| I come out with guns blazing Wyatt Erp |
| Tricomes, crystals, redhairs, terps |