Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Puta, artist - Lee Scott. Album song Tin Foil Fronts, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 25.05.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Blah
Song language: English
Puta |
| I use your face to snap my skateboard in two with |
| My bad, oh what a cunt I am |
| I am |
| Off with his head |
| Amputate limbs |
| How‘re you gonna ollie with a prosthetic leg? |
| My bad, you don’t even skate |
| Wait, but I can |
| I’ll 360 kickflip that spliff out your mouth |
| No doubt, I’m living on the ill side of town |
| My sniper rifle got a wide angle |
| Blow off your Supreme 5 panel |
| How you like me now? |
| Not much, well it’s mutual |
| Whoopsie doo |
| Yo, I’m chilling with the down and outs |
| Fuck about, get dumb chills more roundabout |
| I’m on an ox like my brother is |
| Sea town, catch me loc-ing like lover crip |
| Your mother wanna suck my dick |
| Cause a brother Hung like Brotha Lynch |
| Suck it bitch, I got 1.7 of the hubba bubba crop |
| It’s a 1−8-7 on this motherfuckin blunt |
| Shit, I’m funky like the doc |
| Doggin on your bitch |
| While you’re rocking Cyberdog, you bitch |
| Adderall Admiral, Trama-Tramadol |
| Yeah, I’m speedballin |
| Was gonna tour with my crew |
| But I’m detouring |
| My mother said I need reforming |
| I just say I need more green, the weed’s moreish |
| More bitches |
| Four bitches |
| Burning church on my shoulder and they’re all Christians |
| That’s how I’m living |
| Put some charas under the stamp for my man in prison |
| -«Puta!» |
| -«Don't call me puta!» |
| I’m in a portaloo |
| Givin' some rich bitch a talkin' to |
| With a quick spliff and a morning brew |
| Form a queue |
| You lack the testicular fortitude to thwart the crew |
| Someone said «wack» and I thought of you |
| I was gonna say I’m only messing, but I’m serious now, instead |
| I’m pawning this glowing gold circle around me head |
| I’m on that occult shit, like L. Ron Hubbard |
| I break you down and put you back together with your head on crooked |
| Dazed and confused, like Jake Holmes |
| Breaking the rules to stay stoned |
| Bunk on a late train home, code name Ste Kweng |
| I didn’t buy a ticket cause me saving for the weekend |
| Sounds in the headphones stuck in ‘96 |
| In the gaps between tracks I’ll be chatting bout prior stints |
| But it’s too much on me mind, like the Kinks, then I think |
| This moolah could have been used for buying drink |
| Splashing fat on me cold skin frying mince |
| If I was a religious man I’d know who to blame |
| Hazardously dangling me Gucci scarf over the flame |
| No heat in the flat, but fuck giving in |
| I’m making the most of this, fluorescent bulb flickering |
| Raving, while I’m waiting for my food to cook |
| A recipe for disaster you couldn’t find in no stupid book |
| So don’t even look |
| Yo |
| It’s reached fever pitch |
| We stand out like a paedo at a Bieber gig |
| Dream a bit |
| I sip Grey Goose and leave with it, we don’t pay |
| I turned Scrooge in my old age |
| You think I’m called Sniff ‘cause of cocaine? |
| Low flame cooking |
| No shame jocking up your girl |
| Cause coke gains pussy in this world, but |
| (Yo) |
| Slow it down, so |
| (Slow) |
| That’s how we goes down, you’s a |
| (Hoe) |
| You wanna do brown? |
| Let me know |
| Real cold when I flow, I’m a pro |
| Quick pro quote, product like wow |
| Now on with the show |
| So, me and Trelly in the zone, you get took out |
| Hit the vault while the Lunarlings look out |
| -«Puta!» |
| -«Don't call me puta, cabron!» |