Lyrics Rats Maze - Slaine

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