Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Hole Repertoire, artist - Smut Peddlers. Date of issue: 03.06.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Hole Repertoire |
| Catch the Raid, intoxic from roach spray I puff on |
| Mr. Slithers, now you’re gay like Waylan Smithers |
| I be Mr. Burns, huff trees and seedlings |
| Destroy any race, color, creed |
| I come wit readings, ?atour? |
| selections, bent erections |
| The outcome is known just like fixed elections |
| I make cake like conjuctive-itis |
| Yo can’t see me wit your pinned up eyelids |
| I burn in all climates |
| Got chicks with grips stuff crystal up they sinus |
| I pull your insides out like Polo parka liners |
| Twice birth-ed, questionably earth bred |
| Umbilical noose scars on my neck from where I first lived |
| Intention’s be cynical, outshine the critical |
| This spherical miracle, wit cadence that’s greatest |
| Debate this, is Cage a serial rapist |
| And Dick Starbuck, now your town run amuck |
| We pillage ya village, snatchin up smurfettes |
| And suckin on they titties like chicken croquette |
| I saw three cuties, gettin molested at the movies |
| I would of broke it up but the attackers was my Droogies |
| No conscience like I’m solace |
| I stay up in boxes like New York’s homeless |
| I run train wit split personalities |
| Wit connected at the knees, Siamese analogies |
| «I'm obvious oblivion but that’s my science» |
| «Could you possibly fathom what the dome be equipped with» |
| «I bring it, to the head piece-piece» |
| «Agent Orange, stompin on MC-C» |
| «I'm obvious oblivion but that’s my science» |
| «Rippable fact» «Agent Orange» «Rippable fact» |
| «Sinister» |
| You suck like a succubus, I write rhymes in incubus |
| To blow your Face Off, courtesy Cage not Nicolas |
| But mad Christialist, Sunday’s rock black bathrooms |
| Pimp shit like warlocks in washington clothes |
| Heads make blood pressure, pop vessel stretcher |
| Bring dead as the sixth starters, digest ya |
| Your fake illusion be strictly optical |
| My optimal intake is always optimal |
| Eliminating pussies, call me gynecological |
| Removing Fallopians, call me hysterical |
| Hysterectomy a remedy, peeps readily |
| Mic in my hand is where the metal be |
| In a unfulfilled quest to find out who’s tightest |
| On the run, yeah I spray cats like graffiti writers |
| I spit phrases, painted wit tainted day-es |
| Pontius Pilate-ing planes for semi-sane |
| Plus Cage is the aviator |
| Alex the Great’ll kill desader |
| Masochist lyricist DJ with his own fader |
| Reap havoc on the mic like Hamas in Jerusalem |
| Wit napalm, and the pipe bombs, we be doin em |
| But cover up like flab on abdominal |
| Now you wanna smoke the E, I deal in chronicles |
| Watch the watch, while you peep the hypnotics |
| Now my conscience be obnoxious if you knock this |