Lyrics Double Tap - Madchild, Fashawn, A$Ton Matthews

Double Tap

A$ton Matthews
I’m not Henry Bahmer
Switchblade from Jeffery Dahmer
Playing swimming pools as I dive in Rhianna
Get to the chopper.
Hundred round blocker
Singing like the Phantom of Opera
That fat bitch getting off?
Sick speed at the kickoff
Maserati, karate chop their tits off
These bitches know a nigga merry bitch off
Open up her mouth to have a place to rinse my dick off
We young and we brazy
I’d jump the gun in your lady so I could punch on the baby
Face first into the xylophone
Double up on Styrofoam
Except the much of this gravy, pussy
So fuck you, suck a dick, pay me
I bring the ruckus.
These raindrops don’t need a bucket
The smitten is flooded, put your fucking limbs on the budget
Young Flex, Pac Teyo can suck it
Fuck it
Madchild
Yo
I’m retardedly clever
Work harder than ever
Thousand dollar cardigan sweaters
Modern furniture, collecting art
Clothes custom Japanese
Doing shows to get the dough
Kids jump like it’s a trampoline
Zombie killer, ruled one, always doubled back
Never one shot to the head, always a double tap
Wrapping like I’m bubble wrap
A neighborhood in double taps
Troubled cat.
Now I’m chopping like I’m a lumberjack
I’m the bomb yelling Allahu Akbar
Underground rapper getting pussy like a popstar
I’m trying to pro up ‘till I’m tow up and obnoxious
Louis Vuitton box full of Rolex watches
I’m not a kid, I saw Jaws and fucking Star Wars
Now I’m 'bout to cop a new Ferrari for my carport
Making money’s easy, the hard part’s saving
That’s why I stay off HypeBeast, or I’d go crazy
From opening at shows, now I’m doing double encores
Skating through life like I’m in Venice on a longboard
Crazy days are over, I was mainly a rebel
Now I rip it up in every town like the Tasmanian Devil
Fashawn
Uh
Set it off
Feel like I done said it all
Except for my repertoire’s deep as a reservoir
Uh
Wack a nigga in the head like a tetherball
From poet to predator
Unloading these metaphors
The pharoahe explode I’ma double barrel
Drag queens claiming they’re kings, sing ‘em a carol
With this chopper, there’s no hiding in my jeans
I copped it out in Oakland they go «Yadadadamean»
Plotting on this cream.
I need it
I got it if it’s green
I’m obviously cocky ‘cause I’m clean
California kid claim they spotted him in Queens
Like Nasir in the scene, snatching dollars from a fiend
Mass Appeal is the mafia, the regime
Still accumulating cream off kush, codeine
Proceed to smoke weed
I’m 35-point O’s for cheap
Young boy, I’m low key
Bumpin C-Bo drinking Olde E
Feeling like the old me
Gold bottle match the gold link
Sake so hard in the grill, knock off the goatee
Your gold teeth, for thinking Po sweet
(Sample from Madchild’s interview with Darren Rose)