Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Shoplift, artist - Rob Sonic. Album song Telicatessen, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: SKYPIMPS
Song language: English
Shoplift |
Shoplift |
Shoplift |
Shoplift |
Boom town Babe Ruth, facts or IMAX, some cattle prod THX Apple rot faction |
Path of lines overlook show the cooks that I know «all work no play» |
makes me American |
Band stand band-bot through the rant, mellotron, layin down news in a voodoo |
chant telethon |
Juicy Fruit economic jag sell your arm processed pick me up, caffeinate Lebanon |
Bio feedback, red alert cosmonaut, pyro recap, weekend end body rot |
Evening copy post featuring yours truly, legs running on triple-A horseshoe |
Simulate test crash, dummy bomb radiance rooftop view value like Arabian |
Nights fuse live through concerts, and maybe then on draft day my acts play |
taps like I’m sapient |
Red flag, (hoot) jet lag, (hoot) hooligan chemical |
A success (hoot) obsessed (hoot), super incredible |
New neighbor feeling with my close friends, both ends |
Whip burn, Chick Hearn, and dedicated broken |
I’ll sock it to em', baptized by pollution |
Capsized minor moving W-M-D |
Double goose, rent free, Penn station mezzanine, Hotel Roosevelt, |
ten ways to get you clean |
Cell phone rap, co-self a set machine, model Kojak, nobel amenities |
«Houston», you’re breaking up! |
Did you see your panel fall? |
Too many figuring for making me a cannon ball |
Standing tall, only 'cause right now the bus is late |
All war cannot cure, ready, set, suffocate |
Drawing for blister pack one-a-day, switch your screen |
This and that, tick for tack, cutaway |
Striker tail vitamin, nitrous ox glycerin under tongue |
Plus I got that stroke down profane |
Project Yucatan, Modest model hooligan, (?), jumper gotta fuel the man |
Jog west (?) energize super dam, enterprise peace put your beef like a nugent |
fan |
Who the van pressure washed I occur innermost teleprompts in the scope quieter |
Branchin' out sick, passing out by the curb, «will I», «should I», «would I» |
kill you for crashing my firebird? |
Polaroid of me by the back room, monitor relentlessly a problematic bad mood |
(?) saint single partied out |
Started off slow, but I’m in the fucking army now |