| Yeah, as you been whippin' that benz uh
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| Ye ain’t' taking that shit nigga so make amends
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| I been that nigga, you can’t touch me
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| Set hut, nigga touch down
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| Get your fucking face out the mud now, uh
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| I’m feeling so i-goddamn-relevent
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| You don’t know me dog, I’m a loner, I’m a loner
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| But I know your type, you the solo type
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| Get shook up fast, explode
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| But left flat
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| And I already know, yous a killa, a hustla, true religion customs
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| Nigga came from nothing
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| Blah, Blah, Blah
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| You’s a fuckin' busta
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| Bust in your crib and take everything but the mustard
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| And a roll of tissue, nigga ain’t' gonna bullshit you dog
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| It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
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| 25 bitches on my dick like it’s Christmas
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| Oh shit, what is this?
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| Give it to you raw, what the privilege
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| You ain’t' got to take it serious, you inferior pawn, nigga
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| With robotic arms, follow along
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| And we’ve seen it all before
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| I’ve seen who dreams deflate
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| Seven feet, sell and wait
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| On the block like she daring the paint
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| Going hard with the eight in ball, call it the same thing
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| Nah, thats a different world
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| We just, we just in a jungle
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| Lions, Orangutans, and the Bangabangs
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| I’m just getting the hang of things
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| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
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| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
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| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
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| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Didn’t have a pot to piss in
|
| I pissed in the parking lot
|
| Put my dick in the tightest twat
|
| Leave a victim in God’s garage
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| The definitive intersection where heaven and hell collide
|
| Purgatory, not a story
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| This really where I reside
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| So you better just pay your tithes
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| Better just prey that I don’t develop a taste for flesh with engage and my
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| appetite
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| Sorry Mrs. Parker, but your baby boys a mutant
|
| And he belongs in the sewer with Turanga Leela folk
|
| Put this poison in his system now he wouldn’t even know
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| And then they tried to prick my skin, and then the fucking heater broke
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| So now I’m a Chupacabara fuckin' wildebeests at every show
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| Feel the need to lose control
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| Feel that neep off in my soul
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| Dump that dick off, dome that hoe
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| Feel like Hoperounds in the fold before he had that single that just fucking
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| killed the radio
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| Now niggas hustle 'ustle just to try and fuck a hust of fo'
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| I’m that dreamy bohemian, still I get them out their clothes
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| Got em' screamin' and screamin' whenever I provide the stroke
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| And I be scheming with DJ and selling these just to get this dough
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| Rest in peace my nigga Dro, rest in peace that Allan watch
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| Hit the East like every week and then run up the mountain side
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| Who’s that peeping in my window?
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| Shut the fuck up, close the blinds
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| «He's a genius! |
| He’s a genius!» |
| But I don’t believe these guys
|
| All these demons in my skull, every time I close my eyes
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| I can keep it in prospective, you won’t keep me in your life
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| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Ye ain’t' talkin', Ye ain’t' talkin' shit
|
| Spitting bottles rippin' by the ceiling fan
|
| Drifting out is so appealing when you drowning for the millions
|
| Put myself together with the beat piece by piece
|
| Hit the bank, real sheik and hand me all my loose leaf |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mush Mouf , by - Spillage Village. Song from the album Bears Like This, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп