Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song DIRTY POTTY, artist - Lil Darkie. Date of issue: 03.01.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
DIRTY POTTY |
| 11, 11, 11, 11 hours I’m spending atop a dirty potty |
| No spending power don’t bend for parties that hurt me body |
| I’m workin' thoughts, in a burning pot I don’t curtsy often |
| I’m using poison making noise until I fill me coffin |
| I’ll have you know I don’t want nothing to do with you losers |
| Ain’t we all losin' ourselves to the point we lose confusion |
| I feel buzzing all over my damn nerves |
| Tobaccy burning no longer a damn herb |
| Disgusting substance in my gullet, fuck it, pull it |
| Pussy gotta take a breath |
| Step outside it’s best for life |
| Or just request your time of death |
| Where you’ll find there’s never time to change your mind for how you live |
| God or goddess ganja lock it in a muthafuckin' web (Smoke) |
| Time for muthafuckin' bed |
| All these products placin' puss inside the common kind of med |
| I’ll be smoking till I’m dead |
| TV is evil all these people get fucked |
| I need diesel, you need evil you stuck, uh |
| Relieve your penis, you need semen to bust, I |
| I’m BMG |
| I don’t people please for none |
| One more round I pull up on a muthafuckin' fridge |
| I need some more balance out it in the fuckin' mix |
| Split big cigs, ever been mook sick |
| Foot so big, homies cooked so quick |
| Ha, mmm |
| I’m feeling one with particulate matter |
| Off a barbiturate shatter |
| Quaalude and this bit of clatter |
| Clinking containers |
| I’m never thinking of haters |
| I used to drink until later |
| But now I drink when the paper come in |
| Drinking potater like vodka |
| Drinking agave tequila |
| Quiet the neighbors’ll hear ya whisper |
| Take my turn upon the toilet on the shitter |
| Paper crisper when you procreatin' litter |
| There is always a place that your trash has to inhabit |
| In habitats of rabbits |
| In habits grab and stab it |
| This faggot is very ragged |
| From self inflicted poising |
| Ingestion of this ethanol |
| Can’t even smell the testicles |
| That linger on his breath at all |
| F it all |
| Spectacles, impeccable |
| Detect the bullshit |
| Dissectible amphibian that swimming in it |
| Ooh |
| I brought a bit of bud hey bud, hit? |
| (Cool) |
| I bought a bit of bud off Bud’s bitch |
| (Who) |
| The figure quick in her knickers the picker licked a nigga wallet |
| Tried to call it, with my cellphone |
| Hell no |
| Trick her not by slipping her liquor |
| By knocking out her cold |
| Boutta ronda rousey this lousy hoe |
| Pockets bountiful |
| I found the fold inside of her |
| Jacket get back to counting fools |
| Mountain souls |
| Mounted in the stone and on the paper |
| Look me |
| Look me in my eyes before I buy this booty shaker |
| George! |
| But Mister Benjamin he hold her in the morning |
| He say Brittany or Lauren opportunity is whoring |
| Sell your soul and never do a thing again |
| Paper men |
| I’m just spitting some important for domestic |
| And for foreign |
| If you drinking you might rap until you dead |
| Save your meds |