Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song One By One , by - Smut Peddlers. Release date: 03.06.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
One By One |
| I shapeshift to a spliff |
| Light myself up |
| Ignite the mic and felt up |
| Your butter shit get melt up |
| Your mic is falling on, needs to be helped up |
| Snatch your rap belt up |
| Blaze the tron, eon the phenom |
| I’m on par with rap czars |
| Fascist dictators |
| Dick starbuck and I’m playin space invaders |
| Standin so close, made you liable |
| Turn your rap Bible to the false idols |
| I been bringin doom to the groom |
| Snatchin up the bridal |
| I’ll hoch paragraphs, invest in ebola |
| Fuck you up like pop rocks and coco-cola |
| Tryin to be cute like mun chi chi |
| Really catch a nut from munchin on deez |
| Hundreds please, honey don’t make a peep |
| In 2g it’s only our word that we keep |
| You in the wrong place |
| You in the wrong time |
| You with the wrong someone |
| Smut peddlers, false poets get done |
| One by one, by one by one |
| You in the wrong place |
| You in the wrong time |
| You with the wrong someone |
| Smuth peddlers, false poets get done |
| Every morning, every evening |
| You in the wrong place |
| Seen the stupid look on your face |
| Get done/dunn like warrick, but never even saw it |
| Yo cage show em how you go |
| Inject the raw shit, mc’s gonna forfeit |
| I was thrown in this lifeform wit basic essentials |
| Like screamin over other cats' rhymes like they instrumentals |
| Sacrifice mics, in front of my following |
| You shit your insides out and go barefoot wallowing |
| Swallowing, woodern crosses, I’m nauseous |
| Fourth the pale horses, insect lynches, dental flosses |
| Don’t practice witchcraft, I got a craft which shits |
| My name stand between mc’s lips like clits |
| Threw you off the roof cuz you thought your ass was fly |
| Till I bungeed off the top and stuck needles in your third eye |
| Wild shit like this comes from boredom in my forehead |
| My cousin in serbia said there’s more dead |
| And there’s even more dead livin upstate |
| Middletown new york where young girls and dogs procreate |
| Call your local agent up for a fix |
| If you outta cake, I’ll take duct-taped up playmates |
| When the weakest of the foodchain steps it up |
| You might come complete with a lot of bullshit |
| Witness legendary tales as opposed to clones |
| They like microscopic versions of indiana jones |
| ?? |
| lost, temple of doom the chorus |
| Goin out like the last crusade against the source |
| You know my name like the blonde flame tryin clone it |
| What opponents? |
| those are kids I spit on last year |
| Still soaking |
| Think about the battle before you start em |
| You’d be better off with a john rocker jersey up in harlem |
| Shitted on the tidybowl man, left his boat |
| Left him fuckin drownin in the trek that I quote |
| I turn your tranquil land into a savage garden |
| Eon run through new york like curtis martin |
| The shit talker, the spittin litterbug |
| I’m watchin you little children like a babysitter does |