Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song holy calamafuck, artist - Run the Jewels. Date of issue: 23.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
holy calamafuck |
| The law defier, the non-complier |
| The death defier, the Mike Myers |
| Murder rapper for hire |
| Do-er of drive byers, the back back clack clack |
| Let it loose murder, all witnesses and survivors |
| That’s a job completer, dependable contractor |
| The back hand wack rap slapper |
| Mr. leather bomber attacker |
| Catch ya getting off the escalator |
| Run the Jewels smooth and don’t trigger the undertaker |
| As a teen lacking, I woulda ran me a supreme racket |
| I woulda took these lames' Supreme jackets |
| Until you rob a hype beast, you ain’t seen sadness |
| «Clockwork Orange"madness, left the scene laughin' |
| Ayy, we forever-ever, |
| Jaimito y Michael the Render |
| The pyrotechnicrats the' ol razzle dazzlers |
| The magic bean imbibers (Yes) |
| The green giant of the rhyme contrivers (Yes) |
| Supreme violence of the time describers (Yes) |
| I’m the decider, you evil eyers |
| A pile driver provider for liars, the sleep depriver |
| The nick of time mercy kill denier in prime |
| I’ll kill the mood of a Buddhist MacGyver |
| I’ll slap a yapper from the acne to the tooth bone fiber, I’m liver |
| Thought crime designer criminal minder |
| And I’m a born and bred in USA who chop and screw truth up |
| Think I got a case of the Mondays, on fire |
| Ayo, one for mayhem, two for mischief |
| Now aim for the drones in your zoning district |
| Hindenburg 'em, get 'em, burn 'em |
| Can’t give the ghost up, no resistance |
| Pass that shit, Mike, I have to insist it |
| Reality sucks dick, how’s that for wisdom? |
| I’ll lick a toad’s back like, «Mmm, delicious» |
| Time elves wave to me off in the distance |
| Hey lil' guy I’m just walkin' through |
| From another timeline where monsters eat truth |
| Physicists say the dough I get’s proof |
| The multiverse lives, I’m supposed to just lose |
| The glass bottom tank I drive is all fueled |
| Better try to stay cool honey bunny don’t move |
| Fuck shit glows in the hearts of the brutes |
| You hate Run The Jewels, you don’t love the troops |
| You miss the point tryna act like shit’s cool |
| Don’t fuckin' tell doom your number’s not due |
| Every other goddamned year I’m brand new |
| It’s been 20 plus years you think that’s a clue? |
| Maybe this guy kinda kills what he do |
| He’s prolly that dude he left enough proof |
| Plenty of these goofs just disappeared, poof |
| I’m still the next big thing, gotta hurt, oof, I got |
| Fire, fire, fire, hot fuego |
| This the pay back, allow me to state that |
| All that forth back, we don’t play that |
| You want beef, bruh, you just state that |
| And we steak that, fry and bake that |
| One time in the big old south |
| Lived a lil chubby kid with a big ol' mouth |
| Lame writers gave him big ol' doubts |
| Now the same lil boy in a big ol' house |
| Look at him now in the big ol' cars |
| And the same folk hated pay big homage |
| One minute let me be candid |
| Used to stand by the garbage can hand to handin' |
| That dumb trap shit, no proper planning |
| Seen ignorant shit like geekers dancing |
| And rappers rap about it like it’s so romantic |
| But I still can’t seem to escape the panic |
| PTSD streets did the damage |
| Kept me in hammock, laid back with cannons |
| Get me fucked up, it be’s calamity |
| I’ma come through and leave some damages |
| Goddamn somebody call 'ambulams', or ambulances out of chances |
| Fuck that weak shit, you be bantering |
| You’re a common cold and my flows are cancerous |
| Fire, fire, fire, hot fuego |
| Take that, mother… |