Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Close Your Eyes And Meow To Fluff , by - Run the Jewels. Release date: 25.09.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Close Your Eyes And Meow To Fluff , by - Run the Jewels. Close Your Eyes And Meow To Fluff |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them |
| Fuck the slow mo |
| Fashion slave, you protestin' to get in a fuckin' look book |
| Everything I scribble’s like an anarchist’s cookbook |
| (Look good, posin' in the centerfold of Crook Book) |
| Black on black on black with the ski mask, that is my crook look |
| How you like my stylin' bruh? |
| Ain’t nobody smilin' bruh |
| 'Bout to turn this mothafucka up like Riker’s Island, bruh |
| Where my thuggers and my crippers and my blooders and my brothers? |
| When you niggas gon' unite and kill the police, mothafuckas? |
| Or take over a jail, give them COs hell |
| The burnin' of the sulfur, goddamn I love the smell |
| Now get to pillow torchin', where the fuck the warden? |
| And when you find him, we don’t kill him, we just waterboard him |
| We killin' them for freedom 'cause they tortured us for boredom |
| And even if some good ones die, fuck it, the Lord’ll sort 'em |
| We’re out of order, your honor, you’re out of order |
| This whole court is unimportant, you fuckers are walkin' corpses |
| I’m a flip wig synonym livin' within distortion |
| I’ll bite into a cyanide molar before you whores win |
| I’m a New Yorkian, I’m fucked from the jump |
| I wear my Yankee so tilted I actually walk with a hunch |
| Look at Mikey, I think he likey, we are sinister sons |
| (And we the type to greet the preacher with a grin and a gun |
| Come on!) |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| A wise man once said, («We all dead, fuck it») |
| Just spit it disgustin' youngin' and hold your nuts while you gunnin' |
| I listened, tatted the sentence on my dick last summer |
| Now I’ll never get that phrase off my brain, it’s no wonder |
| I’m here to buy hearts, I got hundreds, honey |
| The cheaper the parts, the better buy for the money |
| I’m trained in vagina whisperin', glistenin' |
| Waitin' for their christenin' |
| I know the neighbors can’t help but listen in |
| A dirty boy who come down on the side of dissonance |
| I can’t even relax without sirens off in the distances |
| Not shittin' you, little buddy, this fuckin' island’s a prison |
| The only solace I have is the act of conjugal visiting |
| My solitary condition’s preventin' conjugal visits |
| Though mainly missin' my missus, they keepin' me from my children |
| Conditions create a villain, the villain is given vision |
| The vision becomes a vow to seek vengeance on all the vicious |
| Liars and politicians, profiteers of the prisons |
| The forehead engravers, enslavers of men and women |
| Including members of clergy that rule on you through religion |
| (So strip your kids to the nude and then tell 'em God’ll forgive 'em) |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| It’s De La on the cut, lifting six on your snitching crew |
| I’m miles ahead of you, you can sip my bitches brew |
| My battle status is burning mansions from Dallas to Malibu |
| Check my résumé, your residence is residue |
| Call her a skin job and my honey dip will backflip for you |
| You playin' God, your eye sockets she gon' rip into |
| We sick of bleeding now the trey spray and victim you |
| Done dyin', Phillip AK Dick in you |
| With clips in the bottom, we dipping through Gotham |
| Yes eclipsed by the shadows, a dark dance to the coffin |
| I’m a fellow with melanin, suspect of a felony |
| Rip like Rakim Allah, feds is checkin' my melody |
| Yes aggressively testin' with bunk stretches and penalties |
| Dump cases when facing to cop pleas when we seizing the pump |
| With reason to dump on you global grand dragons |
| Still piling fast bucks, Afghani toe-taggin' |
| Now they trackin' me and we bustin' back, see |
| The only thing that close quicker than our caskets be the factories |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| Run them jewels fast, run them, run them jewels fast |
| Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them |
| Fuck the slow mo |
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Lyrics of the artist's songs: Run the Jewels
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Geoff Barrow