Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song You Dead, artist - Sadistik. Album song Salo Sessions, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 12.01.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Clockwork Grey
Song language: English
You Dead |
| You dead! |
| And that’s just how you’re gonna stay |
| You dead! |
| You don’t get to see another day |
| You dead! |
| We’ve been dancing on your grave, homie |
| You dead! |
| Tried to tell you, you don’t want to play |
| Only time I get to running’s when the feds is coming |
| Bury money in the bed hid the rest in London |
| I ain’t even going clubbing unless you get my gun in |
| Hit the powder pack first then I dip the blunt in |
| New new chick like Lauren London |
| Cheese steak got extra onions |
| For Pete’s sakes he’s so repugnant |
| He joined a cult, she joint a covenant |
| Shia LeBeouf ‘em, I don’t love ‘em |
| I don’t cuff ‘em, I just stuff ‘em |
| You buy the muff, I buy the muffin |
| I tie ‘em up & don’t buy ‘em nothing |
| Line ‘em up, divide it up |
| White lines I’m high as fuck |
| Bust a nut & then buy a truck |
| Took a bump & then took a dump |
| I don’t love no niggas neither |
| Tattoos & I ain’t a bleeder |
| Tattoos on every finger |
| Life’s a bitch, you aim to please her |
| Life’s a bitch, I’m a wife beater |
| Blood speckles on wife-beaters |
| Sold black tar wearing white sneakers |
| Know white boys with wide peepers |
| That’ll rob you blind like nice speakers |
| I’m a night-owl, late night tweaker |
| Run DMC, on DMT, keep TNT in my Adidas |
| I walked with Jesus, drew Mona Lisa |
| I taught the thesis, I’m cold as Frieza |
| They call me Caesar I’m so facetious |
| Increase the peace or increase the pieces |
| I’m inundated, in a daze |
| Out my mind I’m in a phase |
| Innervate my inner-veins |
| My innards drained for entertainment |
| At center stage |
| Spill my guts on dinner plates |
| I’m dead awake, they’ve been afraid |
| My set of fangs may penetrate, uh |
| My limbs still feel dismembered, that’s if I still remember |
| Liquid liquor liver dies like live or die by thrilling benders |
| Instill the pressure to break the surface & build it better |
| I’ll William Tell em my aim is perfect & kill offenders |
| My top lip is gothic, the bottom is opposite |
| I’m often laconic, they not they just talk |
| Their topics are toxic, obnoxious & nauseous, etcetera |
| I better not get what they got I know I’m not one of em |
| Running with wolves, and keeping that pack |
| Under the moon, I can see in the black |
| Eat through the fat, hunt and pursue |
| I turn nothing to something deceive and attack |
| They feed on the last I proceeded to pass |
| And repeat it, read it on my lips |
| It’s chronic when they cross their tongues |
| Just to talk to haunted ones, you dead |
| Yo, I’m a dead bee, no buzz |
| I don’t give a fuck, nigga I’m focused |
| I’m a urban legend, like the Loch Ness |
| This fur’s a yeti, this fur’s a vest |
| This verse a blur, my words a blur |
| Obscure absurd, I’ma merk this nerd |
| Doing a drive-by, I swerve & squirt |
| Wave bye-bye, merge with the earth |
| I’m Mufasa, King Jaffe Joe |
| On Viagra fucking a sloppy hoe |
| I grip her ass like I’m kneading dough |
| You wear Jordan skullcaps with fucking minks |
| You a fucking weirdo |
| I don’t give a fuck, I’m fuck-less |
| I’m drunk as fuck, I’m hopeless |
| I’m Basquiat, I am Malcolm X |
| Bitches in the club be like |
| That nigga ain’t got no type respect |
| I don’t give a fuck, you still gone fuck |
| My pops said he like my music |
| I just say fuck too much |
| Well fuck you pops |
| This how the fuck you made me |
| Fucking wild, fucking crazy |