
Date of issue: 02.07.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Psycho+Logical
Song language: English
Drugdealing |
Drug dealers |
What, what |
Hustlers |
Psychological, Necro, Street Villains |
Volume 1 |
Uh |
Welcome to my world where DT’s eat faeces |
Hookers with moustaches will suck your cock for a free piece |
If you’re broke, you decease to jerk |
So you gots to lurk through the streets, do some of the devil’s work, then murk |
It feels good son, it’s great to scheme |
It’s all dirty money so wash your hands after you calculate the cream |
Peep me if you like smoke |
You wanna fight loc? |
You walkin' a tight rope |
You get cut like coke |
Someone’s lust, is someone’s win |
Love consumption, opposite hell production, self destruction |
Brain cell abduction |
Vein corruption |
Cocaine production |
Your brain gets sucked in |
Keep your stash tucked in the balls at all times |
And when pigs ask you about me, yo you better catch allzymes |
Which means never talk to cops |
So these fiends can continue to snort the crop |
But yo we gotta make cream, so yo we water crops |
Down with vitamins, and all sorts of slop |
But don’t tell nobody! |
Ripper you got a fetish for paralysin' your dome often |
When you isn’t got enough cream to pay for your own coffin |
You got a problem no one cane solve |
So sniff and let the snow dissolve |
Life is a cipher I’ll let the flow revolve |
Drug dealing |
For money, we do deals and illegal shit |
Drug dealing |
Weighin' shit up on the scales, for crack addicts rippers and potheads |
Making dough is the intent |
For sick men, that stash crack? |
and bit pens, and fit gems? |
Are you a victim? |
Today’s deal, sell some blow, eat a gourmet meal and stay real |
Nobody will be able to find your bones |
My business feeds your business, so mind your own |
Sellin' stuff to skeezers |
Before I saw Jeez for makin' beats, I sold weed to creeps |
How ‘bout that girl Annette, from Brooklyn |
She had pimples on her ass and mad problems |
I sold her grass |
They all got ripped off, even the hard rocks |
I sweared they were trife, but never saw a scale in their life |
Tellin' this kid about grams and how much and quality and my count sucks |
But you smoked every ounce up |
Perpetratin' like you a dealer, but you an addict |
Smokin' every sack before you made your money back |
I was seventeen, sellin' green weed |
To grown men who’d fiend to get dirt inside their spleen |
How ‘bout the fifty year of twats |
That light up by smoking pot |
Was no cops, as long as I delivered it hops |
Drug music |
Brand new Necro, exclusive |
Pick up brutality part one, September |
It’s a bundle of crack |
And you’ll smoke it |
You bitch! |
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