Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Voices, artist - Kool Keith. Album song Collabs Tape, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 19.07.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Junkadelic
Song language: English
Voices |
| Yeah Pony L and Dr. Strangelove |
| Once again, I gotta tell you how it is |
| I used to check out, use the mad route stare at these ugly bitches Sit at the |
| table with frowns with their stomachs out |
| Cellulite for weeks, rules in these New York streets |
| With mad babies, big heads movin' in the stroller |
| You gettin' older while that dress hangs off your shoulder |
| You stupid bitch, he’s sick, the kids got the shits |
| You walkin' wack with those problems in your ass crack |
| You chose this nigga, he’s a zero girl, doin' nothin' |
| You was buggin' because the bum had curly hair |
| You got psyched, the baby came out with some nappy hair |
| You was a fine freak, thoroughbred dumb with no head |
| I seen you scrape up your pennies up at B.B.Q.s |
| Your friends are fat with guts, breakin' all the rules |
| You choose to lose, no cheers, receivin' boos |
| Rent is due with some old crab nigga fuckin' you |
| It’s true, it’s summertime, what you gonna do? |
| Every winter you got this gay man screwin' you |
| This bitch is a problem, no money, fuckin' dummy |
| She’s from the slum actin' fly fuckin' bread crumb |
| Shopliftin' programs runnin' on the boulevard |
| Stretch marks leak out your tight dress, your legs are scarred |
| Yeah… |
| Voices inside my head |
| Problems keepin' you fed |
| This bullshit needs to cease, rappers rappin' for cheese |
| It’s like a disease the way niggas be snackin' for fees |
| Executives, even accountants playin' artists like chips |
| The last time you was legit… I was suckin' on nips |
| Up in my shit like a dog checkin' for sex |
| Babies and gettin' the Lex, hey they forget |
| While the door slammin', dick crammin', eye jammin' |
| Wait, «My show’s slammin'», cash up your nose Hammond |
| Landin' deals ain’t shit if your label ain’t shit |
| Nitwits split for sips while I flip scripts legit |
| Commit to whippin' ass on the mic, it’s like a fuckin' runway |
| These niggas is like bitches feelin' through gunplay |
| One day when lyrical finesse is stressed instead of dress I’ll compress |
| Compression and hate, blow out the best, but it’s cool |
| Fools like you makin' crews thats blue stay true |
| One-Thousand lyrical orators, pay dues |
| So snooze and get dissed, bust in the head with Cris' |
| Fake ice on your wrist, I’m nice and you on my dick like piss |
| You wish you was half the lyricist that I persist to be |
| Don’t say shit to me, Godfather like Sicily |
| The misery’s consistencies acidity |
| Will blemish these abnormalities in the industry |
| Voices inside my head |
| Problems keepin' you fed |
| Voices inside my head |
| Problems keepin' you fed |