Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Face Facts , by - Kottonmouth Kings. Song from the album High Society, in the genre ПопRelease date: 31.12.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
Face Facts |
| Figured out long time ago |
| Nothing’s as it seems don’t you know |
| Go underground if you want the scoop |
| Cuz the population’s out the loop |
| You know I size up my sacks with a couple extra grams |
| D-Loc got a caddy, I got a V-Dub van |
| X Daddy rolled a fatty, asked him «What's the plan?» |
| He took a hit, blew out his rip |
| And said, «Let's plant the land» |
| Yeah I smoke some weed, just a little somethin somethin |
| Don’t hate me because I got the country buzzin |
| Leave cats shocked, you know the crowd be jumpin |
| On my pride it blows like a chemical combustion |
| My real name’s Dustin, I spit these customs |
| AKA D-Loc, E-Loc's little cousin |
| Don’t be mad, be glad, tell your dad |
| Cuz I be spittin' rhymes you never knew I even had |
| (??) (into the store?), double parked and got a ticket |
| By a midget on a pony, I called him shorty |
| He started twitchin, fingers clickin |
| While he’s bitchin, and I snapped |
| I had a vision, I was leading in the useless race |
| I had the pole position, no but kiddin' |
| And I didn’t make that mess up in your kitchen |
| I was dishin' out some sacks, and me and Loc, well we were fishin |
| I keep wishin' that you’d ease on up and quit it with your trippin |
| Maybe smoke a bit more weed and stop it with that candy flippin |
| Let’s face facts, chips get stacked |
| Unsystematically our pockets get fat |
| And we kick back, pimp caddilacs |
| Smoke off pounds, flip dime sacks |
| Think you can out smoke me, well I’m calling you a liar |
| Cuz my bowl, I set it on fire |
| I’m on my couch with my pouch and my fat JB |
| Got ten different types of weed, about a pound of each |
| No leaves, they’re clipped clean |
| But the few they hit the bing |
| Then my phone rings, my boy askin what he need to bring |
| I said some coligreen, some kale, some pot, and some ale |
| And that freak we met last night, I think her name was uh… Michelle |
| Ah what the hell, just put out the word |
| Any hottie with the nerve, Richter said that he will serve |
| Graduated high school back in '95,started writin' rhymes |
| Laid low, I’m hard to find |
| A kid like me, no less, I’m kinda fresh |
| Discovered the weed, took a hit and got blessed |
| I’m not the best, just flexed on the next |
| Daddy X plan a text, simply not complexed |
| I’ll give it all I got, put the game to a test |
| Keep writin' rhymes and forget about the rest |
| Let’s face facts, chips get stacked |
| Unsystematically our pockets get fat |
| And we kick back, pimp caddilacs |
| Smoke off pounds, flip dime sacks |
| Ooh damn, there he goes again |
| Throwin' his cigarettes out the window |
| Blowin' fog with logs, sticky indo |
| You know it comes a dime a dozen |
| Flow like Snoop, lay it back in the cut and |
| Woo, I think I’ll pass on the brew |
| And smoke my buds with the Kottonmouth Krew |
| The big bad ass, you know who |
| Well, I really can’t tell if there’s a difference anymore |
| Goin' up or goin' down, where’s the elevator door? |
| Got the pimped out suite on the 13th floor |
| Black Flag’s in my speakers blarin' «Gimme some more» |
| Nowadays I stay blazed, a hundred ways, my brain’s crazed |
| Gone like those punk days, I’m stackin' chips like Frito, Lays |
| I’ve been to that place, fast cars, cheap thrills |
| Funny looking pills, million dollar deals |
| Three day orgys in the Hollywood Hills, for real |
| I don’t be speakin' no myths, raised on punk rock riffs |
| Smokin' spliffs by the cliffs |
| And you and your crew’s talking about «What if???"'s |
| Let’s face facts, chips get stacked |
| Unsystematically our pockets get fat |
| And we kick back, pimp caddilacs |
| Smoke off pounds, flip dime sacks |
| All this talk of gettin' blazed, reminds me of reggae Sundays |
| Lazy dread and sweaters bust, the Crenshaw District lord was a must |
| Burnin' spliffs to tell (??), hittin' little Jamaica’s rockin record shops |
| (??) in stock and cravin (egg?) eating stones, (??) |
| All this talk of gettin' blazed, reminds me of punk rock ways |
| Babylon could never rock our boat, all I need (??) |
| That’s what’s really goin' on, life’s too short to be a victim |
| If you don’t like what you got, respond |
| When time has come to make a move, down to you to come up and prove |
| It’s time to make a change, so chose |
| Let’s face facts, chips get stacked |
| Unsystematically our pockets get fat |
| And we kick back, pimp caddilacs |
| Smoke off pounds, flip dime sacks |
| Ganja business controls America |