Lyrics Disasters - Non Prophets

Disasters

On plane rides
On train rides
On bus rides
You need to shut your kids the fuck up!
(Word up)
Trying to get some writing done on this mothafucker (I hate it)
Haha… check it out
Perhaps when I have one of my own, I’ll sing a new tune
But this song is called «Disasters», its about your two year old
I sing for a living in funeral homes, I don’t take requests
Diss my sense of fashion all you want, I hate the way you dress
How do you expect someone to take you seriously
When its obvious the god you trust is hateful and inferior to me?
«I'm kidding!»
Really folks, who asked us to be modest?
Thinking when you hear these jokes, you laugh just to feel smarter
Women are cannon-fodder for the father of their bratty little disasters
I brought it back a little bit, you see that?
Give you a recap, before I recall it and recut it
Relax and read more on every subject
Beat back the natural urges that have surgeons attack fat persons
Scalpels swervin' till the cellulite splattered on curtains
Certain you’ve heard of me by now, that’s why you’re listening
As I waste the most inopportune time to diss some things (like children)
If you have one, cool!
But don’t use kiddies as an excuse to make terrible music please
I’ve got a mouth to feed too, and it lives on my face
In a house that’s see-through and it’s your kid’s mom’s place
Baby mamma drama blah blah blah
I’ve got a problem but I’m not sitting on top of a barbarian chair
With Rastafarian hair
I fear no man with a hand full of scissors
Cause I just cut him short in the shape of an animal less vicious, dig it
I’m more dapper than Dan, and sadly?
You’re more stupid like a van full of Pakistans at a Klan rally
Where’s my daddy?
Forget what the court of law says
I cut my losses, I’m asking you who the fuck YOURS is!
If I wanted to pick you up with a line
It’d have a fish hook on the end of it and I’d stick it in your eye
Fucking cry, baby
Wipe your eye, baby
I may have busted off a couple of times inside but that ain’t my… baby!
Kickin' unoriginal flavors, dumb ish
Like Jay-Z trying to impress chip fool with a tongue twist
I diggity-done this, I diggity-done that
I kiggity-kept the style in my arsenal thinking it will come back
Now run that shit like wild potato chips
Throw your hands up if you’re in a fucked up relationship
Help me.
fuck these kids up in the two seats behind me (waah…)
(Yo Sage, that’s supposed to be an inner loop beat)
I know that (disaster)
I know that (disaster)
I know that (disaster)
I know that (disaster)