| Okay
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| Spinni— spinni—
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| Spinning inadvertently, grinning of no concern to me
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| Churning my gullet turns in me, burning
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| A metal furnace, earnestly I deserve it
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| I sit in silence 'cause my mind is lacking accurate wordage
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| Or maybe courage
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| With a flourish, writ it spit it
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| It finished and then release it
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| Plays increase it, rinse, repeat and don’t be cheating
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| Deleting comments and buying interaction
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| By packing that on the back end
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| Impacting finances only through hacking
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| You niggas wacker than a sack of some 'gnac
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| And Jack Daniels, in fact, throw it out
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| Slowing down, what is my plan of attack? |
| Growing sound
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| Louder than a pound of that gasoline when it’s slapping me
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| You lacking tree, passing these spliffies that I been packaging
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| And packing in wax, wack rappers eat crap
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| Flack jacketing in case he shat, plastering the wall
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| And splattering us all, it’s happening
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| I smoke the shatter 'til I fall, bitch
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| I am addicted to drugs and I’m sick of it
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| Smoke away the stress and then roll up another stick of it
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| I am addicted to drugs and I’m sick of it
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| Needle full of happiness, I tap the skin and then stick it in
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| We all addicted to drugs and we wired
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| Johnny at work off a Xan-Xan-Xanax, tired
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| Yeah, motherfucker
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| Coughing up black in the shower, motherfucker
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| Pucker up and hock a loogie
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| Hopefully there’s ruby in it, you diminish, truly finished
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| I got no time for that, niggas whose rhymes are wack
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| And lines or crack in tiny sacks
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| Spit the facts that bit ya neck, a diamondback
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| Take a sec and check to see ya spine intact
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| Find the pack and tear it open, serotonin mind attack
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| Dopamine is soaking in like hocus pocus, take a toke again
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| And then rewind the track, rewind the track, rewind the track
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| When I was a youngin I suffered for being different
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| But isn’t it funny how by sticking out, I’m fitting in?
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| I think it is indicative of solid qualities
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| And honestly, the flyest niggas stick to shit (Tell 'em)
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| I like to knit a bit and sew a little, my flow is brittle
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| Where is Darkie, nigga? |
| Spit a riddle
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| Fuck with a fiddle like the name implies, patience high
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| Complacent eyes racing I, you’ll never buy enough time
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| Rough riding tough hide or thick skin
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| «I stick my dick in a pig pen» and piss ya mom off
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| I tell her I’m soft, but I be at attention
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| Keep the tension in my trousers, I’ll arouse her
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| Then allow her all my power in the shower, nigga
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| This is an elegy to celery, a tribute to the green
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| 'Cause it’s the only thing these motherfuckers need is getting money
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| But ain’t it funny that I like the veggie better?
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| I be chilling off the marijuana bumping Eddie Vedder
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| Fed up with righty bozos and lefty homos
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| Fuck with 'em no mo', I go-go
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| No fucking gadget, you get your bag yet?
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| So big you drag it, your heart has maggots
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| I’m eating celery, Lil Darkie is a faggot magnet
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| This is an elegy to celery, a tribute to the green
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| Ride a stick of celery until you cream
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| This is an elegy to celery, a tribute to the green
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| Fuck your culture, what you say and how you mean to seem
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| I am addicted to drugs and I’m sick of it
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| Sick of it
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| Sick of it
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| Sick
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| I’m sick of it
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| I’m sick of it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I AM ADDICTED TO DRUGS AND TIRED OF IT, artist - Lil Darkie. Album song THIS DOES NOT EXIST, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп