| Aesop’s getting hungry
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| Well what do you want?
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| What’s on your mind, Big MURS?
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| Shit, the end of the world with a wife at home I pretend is my girl
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| Did you take your meds today?
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| 20 milligrams worth, but I’m still so amped I can kill a damn verse
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| What’s on your mind Aes Rock?
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| Shit, the roaches in the kitchen that I scream on everyday but for some reason they don’t listen
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| Did you take your meds today?
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| Yeah, 20 milligrams worth, but I’m feeling so amped I can kill a damn verse
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| I was cooling at the park with a couple of other Jukies
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| An animated glitch suspended like milk money bullies
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| I calculate my comfort zone by how baggy the hoodie
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| I calibrate pyrotechnics on how crappy the jewelry
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| (I keep it Dirty) Like What? |
| My vibes on that old Ha ha ha Stick 'Em
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| Like a 1950-something wire hanger abortion victim
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| 99 bottles of happy pills on the wall
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| Take 'em down, pass 'em around before me and MURS eat 'em all
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| I was cooling at the park with a couple of other Jukies
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| We were paused taking on all comers like some bookies
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| Rookies running up with their run-of-the-mill raps
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| Crashed, hit 'em all up with hundreds of ill slaps
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| The Harlem Backslap just happens to be my favorite
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| You take it from your shoulder then you take 'em to the pavement
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| We don’t take shit but we take our medication
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| And we bust them raps back to Prozac Nation
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| I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again
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| I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again
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| I gotta go home, I need to take my happy pills again
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| I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again
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| Blockhead, this beat sounds like the theme song to the
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| Huston 500 Marathon Fuck-Fest
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| Get laughed at like dude last in line tryin’to fuck that’s suspect
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| Who’s ante’s up next? |
| Duck I’m buckin’with bonsai column big pimpin'
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| With less money and women, money that’s slippin'
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| Now it’s Golden Eye with sniper rifles in the temple
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| Holding my bludgeoned-to-deranged cups, my triple doors tucked
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| Flip a little wrong tough, it’s the right stuff or the wrong stuff
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| Wrong lyrically I’m not stuff clutch upon the mic because you suck
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| This does sound like the beat from a porno flick
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| Before we get up off the stage go and warn those chicks
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| That we’re comin’with that oven-fresh DiGiorno Dick
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| I wanna fill you up, then fill you up Bang this dick into your stomach until you reveal your lunch
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| Shove my 8 into your face and make you taste your cunt
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| Nah, not really, 'cause my girl would surely kill me I only rest my cock when my XBOX enthrills me MURS is my pharmacist cupboards full of Clonepin (sp?)
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| I’ma seratone (sp?) and reuptake enhibitor broth eulessmonumin (sp?)
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| See me in hell cashing in on that See You in Hell thing
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| Decompose like Dorothy water bucket clutch which people smelting
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| And I seldom seen these weeks without the medicated crust
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| Settle uncivil circuits that make the cut
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| I’ll tell you what, I’ma freak the fuck out if someone
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| doesn’t let me use their phone
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| Yo, MURS I gotta go home
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| Aes Rock is my pharmacist, he doesn’t own a farm
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| But he owns a gang of pills that’ll help and keep me calm
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| If you’re taking this too serious I’m just gonna bomb
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| I’m just screwing with your head like to do em out with brain
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| Surgery inside a shed, I take the same meds
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| As Iron Mike Tyson, my life is rollin’out of control
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| Don’t need a license to drive myself crazy
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| Catch me on his next album as long as Aesop pays me Go to sleep, go to bed
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| Go to sleep, go to bed
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| Go to sleep, take yo ass to bed
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| Moherfucker better go to sleep
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| Def Jux!
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| Motherfucker, what? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Happy Pillz , by - Murs. Song from the album The End Of The Beginning, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп