Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Switched On, artist - Madchild. Album song Switched On, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 29.09.2014
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Switched On |
| I’m on some terminated, kill shit |
| I’m on some terminator, aye |
| Fuck, I’m bionic in my tennis shorts |
| Many more for short warped Dennis the Menace dwarf |
| Open up your mouth like I’m a dentist in my premises |
| Hairline as bad as genesis with better penmanship |
| In Venice eating venison |
| I miss Los Angeles, pissed off angry just, list off languages |
| Manhandle a damn prime rhyme rhinoceros |
| Up-close and personal like watching The Apocalypse |
| Wearing binoculars, talking like I’m auctioning |
| Toxic oxygen, boxed in with ostriches |
| My cock monstrous, Pocahontas and moccasins |
| Hot as an iguana in a sauna, say the opposite |
| Voice hoarse like I need a box of lozenges |
| Go to grandma’s, have a bowl of soup and polish sausages |
| You can’t process it |
| Blooming like a million cherry blossoms on some awesome shit |
| White boy that has potential, Last Samurai |
| Camera shy, rhymes ramble longer than the camel ride |
| Petrify how I electrify, texting sexy fly |
| Bitches with my iPhone, taking pictures of my bone |
| Terminator flying through your country like a cyclone |
| Twenty shows, eighteen bitches, and then I’ll fly home |
| Bad for being old as fucking Battle Star Galactica |
| Fucking spectacular, teeth sharper than Dracula |
| Respect the spectacle you bitch cause I’m immaculate |
| Top-five crackers cracking off, that’s accurate |
| Archaic Angel with a flamethrower |
| Some rappers reach for the sky I guess I aim lower |
| Drake get twenty million, I get forty Gs |
| Him and forty, yo I had to run away from forty thieves |
| Conduct disorderly, more fucked when your bored of me |
| Distorted artistry, I blame it all on hieroglyphics |
| Why me, screaming standing on top of a pyramid |
| The joke’s over, my life’s an awful experiment |
| I’m the fucking last Mohican |
| And still I’ll blast the weekend |
| I’m past the deep end |
| A deacon, inside I’m actually freaking |
| Older than ColecoVision, I’m still ego driven |
| Nighthawk, American eagle compared to feeble pigeons |
| Feeling groggy, my sleeping habits are terrible |
| Vision foggy, maybe I’m asking for miracles |
| Can’t compare yourself to someone that just won the lottery |
| Unless you’re Slaughterhouse no one gives the fuck if you slaughtering |
| Tried of being the guy that almost made it, still an unknown |
| King Kong, blow you to Kingdom Come and then come home |
| Write another hundred dumb poems |
| I’m done holmes |