Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tuf Tiddy , by - Shredders. Song from the album Dangerous Jumps, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 02.11.2017
Record label: Doomtree
Song language: English
Tuf Tiddy |
| Live from environments while iron eagles flyin' |
| Metal pieces fired |
| Heaving high into the evening |
| Come and meet me |
| Hunting season |
| Numbered days |
| I often wonder if that’s even odd |
| Thesis: reason leaving |
| Are you breathing? |
| Right on, my god |
| Bygones bygones |
| Ions flaring |
| Flying from the one that I’m on, sheesh |
| Beyond neon |
| I ride on nylon and bearings |
| Write in krylon, «You're fucking with The Juggernaut» |
| Why they, why they wanna go to war with them? |
| Tin clad skin, grin made of porcelain |
| Orbiting, I can spot 'em from the dorsal fin |
| Ornament, waiting for the Metamorphosis |
| Ain’t no Kafka, just some ca-ca from the demagogues |
| Rocking with the Baphomets inside the Pentagon |
| One push the button then we bye bye |
| Bright eyes nigh nigh |
| You play the sidline |
| I break the game and make the highlight |
| Whoa, here we go again |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa, here we go again (and again) |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Been a brass-ball |
| Bearing beast |
| Ball-sack of gator |
| Skin off the pavement, preach |
| Barely great |
| Crazy 88 Raiders |
| Beating the fake |
| Outta you fucks |
| Bottoms up |
| Bodies all over the place |
| Beat the brakes |
| Beat us and |
| Beat the face, greasy lean |
| See the teeth fleeing |
| To the planet of the blamin' apes |
| Feeding time |
| Freedom fights |
| Feed 'em fire |
| Free to fry but pay the price |
| Peter pipes we play through pain |
| Drapes! |
| Peace of mind, for piece of yours |
| I’ll bring the blade |
| Bring the boys |
| Out of the yard |
| I put 'em back in their milkshakes |
| Cut slash dig |
| Dumbin' up, domino |
| Slam Dum dudda |
| I’m just a city slick |
| Son of a bitch |
| Buck bash brick |
| Do whatcha like |
| A doo-wop diddy |
| Don’t letcha britches |
| Get too fuckin' big |
| I’ll take the brag outta the docious |
| Put it back in the bag |
| Not your bruh, bruh |
| Buddy, don’t call me guy |
| You know what it is |
| Glass on the outside |
| Blood on the inside |
| Something ain’t right |
| Couldn’t think of any other way to hide |
| Couldn’t be a better way to get away than die |
| But we some big fans of life, and humbled |
| And big fans of light, and tunnels |
| It’s so sick man, got so sick’ning |
| Quick goddamn man, something better get me |
| Whoa, here we go again |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa, here we go again (and again) |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa, it’s always on ten |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |
| Whoa-oh-oh |