Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Houston Lyricists, artist - Sketch the Bottom FeederDate of issue: 09.01.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Houston Lyricists |
| Unless you say me and K are the best alive |
| You’re slayin' Sketch’s pride |
| Your shit is killin' my buzz, like sprayin' pesticide |
| You swaggin' maggots wanna be fly? |
| Okay I got you |
| Pass me by, and I’ll JJ Swatt you |
| ‘Cause my brain just ain’t the same, I’m beyond standard |
| And I came to change the game, like Deion Sanders |
| The mainstream ain’t for me, it’s plain corny |
| They couldn’t fuck with me participating in the same orgy |
| My bars are so hard biters are losing teeth |
| And Kevin Banks is on as Dwight Schrute, producing beats |
| I’m quite rude with my gruesome speech |
| Watch out for the white dude in the Houston streets |
| Listen, comin' to me is like dissin' the Missing Link |
| Y’all are trippin' if you think, you can rap like that too |
| Compared to mine, their skills with the pen stink |
| They’re behind with the ink, like a backside tattoo |
| (Hook x2) |
| We some dirty South Houston lyricists |
| You ain’t used to hearin' this, when you heard these sounds, your mind shattered |
| ? |
| comprehension of our rhyme pattern |
| These wordy mouths got you losin' spirit quick |
| (K-Rino) |
| Hard for me to curve my nervousness |
| Every single word I spit gets reported to Micro Tech services |
| Lyin' ‘bout the thing you’ve been involved in |
| Fool, your job was puttin' jogging suits on mannequins in Target’s men’s |
| department |
| I wanna slap your whole rapping circle |
| My raps’ll hurt you worse than thirty straight bites from an alligator snapping |
| turtle |
| If you the greatest, come and show me |
| Plus I’m so underground, people in my own family don’t even know me |
| I’ll murk ‘em soon as the bastard see me |
| I look like a savage genie, wearin' number seven like Dan Pastorini |
| I don’t think you wanna try my flows |
| I got a list of lyrics in my library longer than Lady Gaga’s nose |
| I hate you and your ratchet spouse |
| Piss me off, I’ll fly over your hood and throw the astrodome at yo' house |
| All these garbage rappers we ingest |
| You rappers’ll sleep in a nest of scorpions before fuckin' with me and Sketch |
| (Hook x2) |
| (Sketch) |
| I just finished drinkin' a gallon of bleach and I’m still waiting to die |
| So I can go to hell and kill Satan |
| After my daily twelve-pack, I smoke, and do coke |
| I’m broke, but I’ll sell crack ‘till I’m Bill Gatein' |
| A pill taken and a blunt smoked, equals a smile |
| I’ve been deceitful and vile, brutal and evil a while |
| I wake up taking shots and go to sleep with bum liquor |
| When bitches suck my dick, I choke myself so I can cum quicker |
| I won’t be greedy with bullets, I’ll share a gat-full |
| Make ‘em fly until there’s none left, like pterodactyls |
| And if a pistol ain’t enough, I’ll adjust |
| I’ll blackjack ya, pull a twenty-two out and bust |
| I’ll kill your girl while she’s cooking and make you go to bed hungry |
| Then grab her deady body and fuck her like I’m Ted Bundy |
| I’m nothin' but a dirty, rotten, sick twisted bastard |
| The one and only altar boy that ever molested a pastor |
| (Hook x2) |