| They want more feel to come out of it so
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| They stood there watching all the counterfeits show
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| Tell everybody that the pauper’s here
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| And you can tell by the pellets they took out of his man
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| You’re better off breaking your analysis' nose
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| Especially if your young and your talented don’t
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| The checks generally got them balances though
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| There’s them stars on the helmets like they’re Dallas’s, go
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| One way, innocence, two way radio
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| Gateway druggie with the run down ratio
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| War time crazy, go great with my look in fact
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| Ripped shit, bill a sale, stared when I took it back
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| You on some afternoon raps for the CD-
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| Crowd (show, you’re?) syndicated, trapped on repeat
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| I’m on some late night, canned if I don’t eat sleep
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| Honolu Vincent Price bad luck tiki
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| Bad in-flight plan, buckle-in
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| Truck rhyme, nozzle flow, high-code government
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| Auto-response, beats made of bufferin'
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| Wildstyle, peace of mind, wheat paste puzzlin'
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| Stand out, like a midget on stilts riding a unicycle
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| With a rifle as big as a stilt, ready to snipe you
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| Look, your own mens say they don’t like you
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| They say you act like a bitch when she’s on her menstrual cycle
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| Your parents should’ve advised you
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| It’s apparent a blind man must’ve guided you
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| You ain’t built to do the things that I do
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| Young Muddy Waters, Creats flow like he’s out the Bayou
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| Inner City Blues, make you bleed, but I’m not Piru
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| Soul food for thought for seeds and sinners, too
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| Curt Mayfield, or Kurt Cobain
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| The boy heroin, need to squirt him in your veins
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| Quickly, get to the top of the roof
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| And head behind the car where the arsenal moved
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| And right beside the well, use the operative rounds
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| To let these motherfuckers know, there’s no stopping you now
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| It goes- Downtown, up top, all about, audio
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| New York, New York, all about, audio
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| Downtown, up top, all about, audio
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| New York, New York, all about, audio
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| (Blitz sky?), polymorphic Hangar-eight-status
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| Swerve care-free, always did, no bounds out of it
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| Cloaked down, summoning my sumo-samurai
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| Larynx, catalyst, switch blade, carriage ride
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| Come on baby, don’t cry, two-wheel spokesperson
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| Indo in your window, crack shadow where you flows circlin'
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| Boys burglin' soundscape, caught up in the scenery
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| Respond in a lounge- wait, caught up in a dream of me
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| Walkin' with a dramamine, spinnin' like I’m Seraphine
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| Afro-king dime, Lyme disease flow-er
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| One-touch, finger flooder, no quip
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| Got the Hangar bolt on the shoulderpad, star on the helmet tip
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| Son, take a moment, catch your breath and own it
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| Home is for the heretics and Merrill-Lynch components
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| Nepotize, extra fries, five-alive, pesticides
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| Pride patriotic, gotta gobble up the exercise
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| Aerobic (class cats) phobias (abstract)
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| Fast-track race pace faith-based (scratch that)
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| Calomine or palomine, a Valentine to wash it
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| Downtown signs, why am I resigned to rock it?
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| Mechanical, arm-and-leg and beggin' for the armageddon
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| Army’s gettin' ready for spaghetti western confrontations
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| Patience is a virtue that I work through as I case the joint
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| Anoint, take the apron, cut the strings, and I made my point |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sniper Picnic , by - Rob Sonic. Song from the album Telicatessen, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп