Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dopehead , by - Slaine. Release date: 18.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dopehead |
| Sniveling whimpering crying ass junkie |
| White on white sneakers, yellow teeth honky |
| Early in the morning for your dose |
| Off for the day with your North Shore ho |
| That bitch is gross |
| She’s your road dog, dog you’s a boosting |
| Herb with the cokeheads bumping Whitney Houston |
| Stole an iPod always look in truth and |
| Dude get a month clean then he starts juicing |
| Nothing these days worse than a dopehead |
| Up with the birds chirp calling up Lopez |
| Riding 'round the projects on a little moped |
| Kid not knowing if imprints on his forehead |
| It used to make me sad but now it makes me sick |
| Cause everywhere I go I got these cowards on my dick |
| Posing for a flick trying to work before a stick |
| You might think I’m wrong for this but I’m certainly correct |
| You’s a dopehead |
| Stevie got a TV that he’s selling and a DVD |
| Player plus he’s yelling 'bout a VD |
| That he thinks he caught from Ellen who’s a seedy whore |
| He met at the CD store |
| They keep on beefing what they should sell the TV for |
| He’s getting queasy cause the ouija board |
| Says she’s gonna dump him |
| But it still won’t say who she leaves him for |
| He asked the fucking thing a week or more ago |
| And it still won’t tell him |
| God damn it Puerto Rican George |
| Oir, hola, we want that harina |
| Don’t look at my girl, act like you never seen her |
| Give up the raw chunky |
| Called him a porch monkey |
| Vince he’s leaving bean town straight for Orange County |
| Robbing the dopeman is brilliant when you’re dope sick |
| It happens to them twice a week |
| They just fucking cope with it |
| Two days pass and they call him again |
| Call him a friend with some brand new dollars to spend |
| I got these dopeheads calling me trading a stolen pistol |
| But I don’t got no more dope, I just got a fistful |
| Of Methamphetamine Crystal Meth |
| That I nicknamed Rick James and this bitch refs |
| Like two sewer rats swimming laps in a cess pool |
| Smells like death, rotten flesh mixed with vegetables |
| I mean they both gross wrinkled like old folks |
| I don’t want a pitbull, I don’t need a gold rope |
| Wish I never sold dope, wish I just sold coke |
| Bleeding cause your veins ain’t healing that’s no joke |
| Calling me at four in the morning from a payphone |
| Why don’t you two broke motherfuckers just stay home |
| I told you I don’t sell 'em stop asking to buy nickels |
| Holding two house speakers tweaking on a bicycle |
| And that’s they vacation, what I’ma do |
| With these two scratched games for Playstation 2 |