Lyrics Jesus Christ Super Tramp - Rob Sonic

Jesus Christ Super Tramp - Rob Sonic
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jesus Christ Super Tramp, artist - Rob Sonic. Album song Alice in Thunderdome, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tunecore
Song language: English

Jesus Christ Super Tramp

Poor little criminal, timid stockade
Rib visit, isn’t full, digital age
Simple Simon diamond dog climb calling case
You do not pay your taxes put you back on your base
King’s in the cape, many ate the pork rind
Like dead feather baked in the lake of pour wine
Fold what you’re told, hold your golden horse hide
For when the levee breaks and your make-up war cries
I’ll walk the line with my socks full of filth
The tilt-a-whirl, woozy, bluesy box full of films
That jog with my memoirs to the top of the hill
And knows what don’t kill me, means the oxygen will
Flocks bring the pills watch the leaders drive by
With temporary tags and a bag full of bribes
Tribes with a tear are in earshots of wife
Learn to read the meter and Peter piped pie so he rolled on the meece
And made them cutters into what they sold on the streets
Every hat, every glove, every scarf, every fleece
Now we’ve incorporated and get paid off disease cause
Hey now, there’s no one to save now
that wait till you lay down
The same mouths Parade around with their blades out
Stop when the missile drop, isn’t God straight?
(Get with their blades out)
Stop when the missile drop, isn’t God strange?
Nonstop if you rock, with it octane
Pole position hop six o’clock train
Willed em all, give a call, and if not pray
To leaky nose CEO Ichabod Crane
Mister spot stain like some Greaser that’s gone
AWOL they face on degrees and beyond
Leave home, destroy, Ponyboy bleach it blonde
We will get at you dog by who Cesar Millan
Fold down the frame put your face on the bills
They bellied you up healthy but you paid through the gills
Argonaut, art is not Jason and Jill
It’s little Jackie Paper makes your name off your will
And you can stay at home, get your postpartum med
And tell the boss you’ll be in by the close part of next
Tuesday with a goose egg and an old army vet
Get the pistol bring the hymnals from the postcarded edge cause
Hey now, there’s no one to save now
that wait till you lay down
The same mouths Parade around with their blades out

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Artist lyrics: Rob Sonic