Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rats Maze, artist - Slaine. Album song The Boston Project, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.04.2013
Record label: Suburban Noize
Song language: English
Rats Maze |
If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Up in front the dollar store stood the whore |
She’s up to no good before |
Walk into your crib high heels hitting the wooden floor |
Sky across her abdomen, brown eyes shitty face |
Cold so cold amongst the projects, city scapes |
A fat man is fucking her his pop belly hangs |
He wheezes when he breathes |
Jesus she got fangs |
She’s stranger than a stranger, she’s dangerous |
She played Atari while old man smoked angel dust |
Back as kids hanging on the bench of cracking bearing |
Her boyfriend so crack he’s back to rack and tearing |
She dropped out in the 10th grade but the sack a smack |
And after that got kicked around like a hackey sack |
Shit is a cold world for a girl |
She never had a conscious she only had abortions |
Beggars can’t be choosers |
You eat shit in rationed portions |
This is a story about a bitch back in Boston |
If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to meet bad people |
I can’t even explain that |
The dangerous, the ruggedness |
Depressin', Pathetic |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to… bad people |
Little man’s broke, plus his mom struggle with cold pops |
An OG that ODed last screams made his veins freeze |
On the southern smoked over chilling in his shoulder |
Screwing in his lap he cooked his smack, gave us all a slap |
From the greatest crap he died from a fatal zap |
Besides that, his nesses is smoking rest |
Far from blast, rising questions |
For the one’s who’ll die next |
Starring at the pie racks |
Up in the projects watching his mom scrip the lighter |
The pipe even tighter, she took a toke |
Filled her lungs with smoke |
Held until she chocked, and blew a cloud from her throat and spoke |
Like this is the cope reason to cope and pour a C note |
I purchase 5 20's with the money rip the plastic bag |
Placed a rock on the glass, and yelled the second glass is strong |
Drag the churk and rob the ash |
Cough like an old hag like little man paces the bad |
Praying for paces with the paces in Boston mass |
If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to meet bad people |
I can’t even explain that |
The dangerous, the ruggedness |
Depressin', Pathetic |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to… bad people |
Ayo, purp smoke blowing in her hair now she going hard |
Door knockers on the air swimming slobbin oggs |
Live on her knees but worship ain’t the purpose |
She giving hat service, slurping niggas for purses |
Open the closed curtains, she fucking everyday y’all |
Clubbing every night different players on the radar |
Smuther around the way y’all day long no stopping |
Mels in and out the box she the post office |
No dark physiques bitch pop and burnin |
Fry a nigga wig Malcom X with his permin |
Vermin, all in the apartment squirming |
Dirty laundry, pow dishes no detergent |
Words she done play a few, snooze and she 'll take your dough |
Canari type for a wife can’t mistake the hoe |
Got a couple nigga hit, round she don’t give a shit |
Nothing new same old script just a different beat |
If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to meet bad people |
I can’t even explain that |
The dangerous, the ruggedness |
Depressin', Pathetic |
Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn |
Boston’s a good place to… bad people |