Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Medicated Minutes, artist - Smut Peddlers. Album song Porn Again, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.02.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Eastern Conference
Song language: English
Medicated Minutes |
I stalk down the block, grabbin my jock |
Scratch cocks while I dot for my red light stop |
Dead right Hobbes I write rhymes for a livin |
Hid my misgivings from my brain was still mssing |
Read and study while my boots muddy |
So fuckin filthy an Avirex butters look bummy |
Think out loud, cause I’m allowed, to stage dive in a crowd |
Of cannibals about to spit across my eyebrow |
Now God blessed me with abnormal tendencies |
And granted clemency for illegal chemistry |
Ain’t worth your weight in molecular structure |
Out of work like JFK Jr.'s flight instructor |
Went, lookin for exits, and tried to get my head fixed |
Slept with a perforated picture of Jimi Hendrix |
See in these days, Cage is like, 54 ways |
To get my fuckin money, mega seedless to blaze |
Sluts, gimmicks, ducks you finished |
This is dedicated for those medicated minutes |
Fuck, image, we stuck on spinach |
In a second you’ll be checkin into fuckin smut clinics! |
Like sluts, gimmicks, ducks you finished |
This is dedicated for those medicated minutes |
Fuck, image, we stuck on spinach |
In a second you’ll be checkin into fuckin smut clinics! |
I ran up in a wack open mic cafe on stage |
So many biters I performed in a shark cage |
In dark shades, during the Central Park raids |
I walked out with a book of paper and a bag of beige |
Friends, the camera lens (is) behind the shoelace |
Get more upskirts than women’s tennis for your face |
I’m fresh out the box like newborns |
The chicken played with my monkey now we makin zoo porn |
Now MC’s the Anti-Christ like, Damien thorn |
Eric the Pascal (?) land so feel the scorn |
The old man, illest show man, my moldin |
With logic equal to fifteen Vulcans |
And I’m soakin, face lookin blank |
Shoot this little kid up with horse tranq' and send him to the bank |
With a 'give me the funds' note, clip’s missin from the gun |
If he gets slapped then fuck it all I’ll split it with my dunns |
(Bum bum!) I shit on crumbs, got a couple thousand sons |
That all shoulda been wiped off some jugs or cloggin lungs |
Everytime I dabble watch my life unravel |
Did I miss an exit to the road less traveled? |
Transmit from the depths of the deepest bassment |
Through the pavement, up into spaceships |
Deathstar creator, I orbit track wars |
My appeal spans Rhodes scholars to slackjaws |
Yo, a Peddler show, include a few heathens |
From Hoth to Tatooine, you choose the season |
Dialect for all these crews and legions |
A walking contradiction like «Jews for Jesus» |
I spit how the earth taste and pass forms out of place |
Galvanize my face and kill for breathin space |
Nobody to trace, open the trunk like the case |
Light the L off of your body and sweepd you in the face |
Yeah I seen old timers became semi-thugs |
I got more dizzy spells than Reginald Denny does |
Cranium blower, Shea Stadium goer |
Hydro cultivator turned uranium grower |
Hang my nuts down so low, got vagina slippers for the floor |
Show you and that slut you call wifey hardcore |
While I burn off the lipsthat you evolved from |
I’m down to shoot Pop Funks ‘cause I can’t tell what caused 'em |
In a second you’ll be checkin into fuckin smut clinics! |
In a second you’ll be checkin into fuckin smut clinics! |