Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Por Que (feat. Jay Love)[Feat. Jay Love], artist - Louis Logic. Album song Debacle in a Bottle, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.03.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Pot To Piss In
Song language: English
Por Que (feat. Jay Love)[Feat. Jay Love] |
Jay Love |
Louis Logic |
Odd Couple |
(Porque?) |
Call me Felix Hunger, starving artist at-large |
Independent entrepreneur, the hardest to rob |
Hardest to dodge, till I’m offered a job |
So call off your guard |
I’m tryna get this loot and buy cars for my squad |
We far from the odd, we’re a couple of nuts |
Cuddlin' sluts, puffin a Dutch and clutchin' up cups |
Filled with nothin' but suds so top off the shot glass |
I got hash, it top class, I copped it just as a cop passed |
I stopped fast, thought about it then I broke north |
Slid up to the crib and took my coat off |
Took a toke off the chalice in the Odd Couple palace |
Thanks to Alice my hands don’t have a single callous |
I think my style is different from the rest |
I’mma spit it for a test and put the critics to a rest |
So get it when I’m vexed or else catch when it drops |
Either way you’ll be like, «No question, it’s hot» |
I’m the best on the block but understand I live on it |
Spit on it, and pay respect to those who been on it |
Gin tonic, tonic meet gin, this is my chronic friend |
Now that you’re introduced we can begin |
I spin around like a record until I get dizzy |
Black out, stumble up to the mirror and scream, «Who is he?» |
I’m busy in the bathroom reminiscin' of last June |
I keep talking wit' you, but I think I’m gonna crash soon |
Why they rockin' ice? |
Why they not rockin' mics? |
Why do hip-hop shows turn into boxin' fights? |
Why do girls front on you unless your pocket’s right? |
Why 'd I spend my last buck to tip a topless dyke? |
Why do heads gotta like |
Shit that’s wack? |
Matter of fact |
Why they treat hip-hop like it’s just rap? |
Why do street niggas front aristocrat? |
You’ll get dissed for that |
Why do they get away with murder on tracks like diplomats? |
Before my track is mastered, the sound’ll shake the foundations |
Crack the plaster, sandstone and alabaster |
To knock the fragile rafters from an oak wood roof |
'Til the smoke protrudes from the soundproof vocal booth |
Truth in the form of a musical song |
Is like beautiful porn stars in chewable thongs |
Cause heads get off to this, then we send 'em away |
With their jaws hanging down like dentist offices |
(Porque?) |
Sick, demented sorcerers weavin' a spell |
Change water to brew, and tobacco to weed in a L |
Change a faucet to a beer tap, and fill a Hefty cinch sack |
With trees until it’s stretched to thin straps |
Who got a problem with a bottomless beer |
That could make a pessimist smile and an optimist tear? |
I’m probably severe as pourin' some scotch in a beer |
'Til I’m wobbly and weird |
Shit, I hope a hospital’s near |
'Fore I OD on Old E, and stop my career |
Hallucinate, and see little green monsters appear |
I run with irresponsible peers, underfunded |
Without jobs, living with moms, sleepin' in bunk beds |
Drug heads whose lives is unkempt |
That never get up from bed before sunset |
We’re still catchin' dumb heads who try to front fresh |
When you’re just half of what you could be like a chick wit' one breast |