Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gazzillion Ear, artist - MF DOOM. Date of issue: 22.03.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gazzillion Ear |
| Villain man never ran with krills in his hand and |
| Won’t stop rockin' til he clocked in a gazillion grand |
| Tillin' the wasteland sands |
| Raps on backs of treasure maps, stacks to the ceilin' fan |
| He rest when he’s ashes |
| Ask 'em after ten miles in his galoshes, smashes stashes |
| Chip on his shoulder with a slip on holster |
| A clip, a folder and his grip on a boulder bolster |
| They supposed to know, it show when his aura glow |
| Get from out the row, when he get dough, it’s horrible |
| Time is money, spend, waste, save, invest the fess |
| For 10 Ks, he’ll cave a chicken chest S |
| Yes, y’all, the dub will get ya trickles |
| The best ballers pitch in and rub together nickels |
| But tut tut, he 'bout to change the price again |
| It go up each time he blow up like hydrogen |
| Villain here, have 'em shrillin' in fear |
| And won’t stop top illin' 'til he a gazillionaire |
| Grillin' stare, yeah, ya boy had drama |
| Got 'em on a mental plane, avoided bad karma |
| Once sold an inbred skinhead a nigga joke |
| Plus a brand new chrome smoker with the triggers broke |
| I thought I told 'em firing pins was separate |
| He find out later when he tries to go and rep it |
| Took a Jehovah money for a Arabic Torah |
| Charged in advance to translate it and ignored it sorta |
| One monkey don’t stop no slaughter |
| A junkie wanna cop a quarter ton, run for the border |
| Know the drill, it ain’t worth the overkill |
| Flow skill, still, there’s no thrill |
| Fill a billion 10K bills in his pill’a |
| Villain, when it gets realer, split the skrilla with |
| Dilla his is agenda is clear |
| Endin' this year with dividends to spare, here |
| It’s not meant for the seein' |
| Went through the ceilin' after enterin' his center bein' |
| A new meanin' to sales through the roof |
| Guaranteed raw and saw his truth was truth, proof |
| It’s the return of the tramp |
| Who do a duet jam when Ernest goes to camp |
| For the right earn, nah mean like Vern |
| We need some more oil for the machines to burn, learn |
| Jiminy crickets |
| He gets lucky like winnin' free tickets off sickly lyrics |
| One man’s waste is another man’s soap |
| Son’s fanbase know the brotha man’s dope |
| A real weirdo with a bugged rare flow |
| And the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow |
| He wears a mask so the charge won’t grab |
| On a rooftop with a large stone slab |
| Heads up, talk white and thought niggerish |
| Refuse to walk tight and got his off the vigorish |
| Black licorice and equally as yucky |
| How he handled the money was strictly Dan Stuckie |
| Monkey hustle, man on fire |
| Later for the date than the Hadron Collider |
| And cost more, it be seemin' like a style |
| DOOM leave the competition steamin' like a pile |
| Smile, ding, sparklin' jewels |
| In effect like alternate side of the street parkin' rules |
| Fools, the roach was never dead |
| Live for a week then dehydrate with a severed head |
| Instead, it was depicted as flicked in |
| Split, the wick’s lit |