Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song At The Motherf*&^ing Halo, artist - Spose. Album song Humans (Album Made In 24 Hours), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.10.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Preposterously Dank Entertainment
Song language: English
At The Motherf*&^ing Halo |
Once upon a time, not long ago |
We made some dope records at The motherfucking Halo |
I’m old school so I get to the point quicker |
You past your prime like an overweight stripper |
My time to fuck around, right around zero |
You ask me twenty times, Warren Buffett’s still my hero |
I’m out here chasing dinero like Bobby De Niro |
I’ma buy a neighborhood and be somebody hero |
Always hang with weirdos, my homies is my kinfolk |
We dick your girlie real slow, old school medicine shelf |
Make 'em see a rainbows like shooting free throws |
Chasing checks is all we know, there they go at the do' |
I’m always blessed, not stressed, it could be armed incest |
I don’t just try fly-ness, I’m like a litmus test |
You must be confused, you think you wanna diss this |
That’s like an atheist that’s celebrating Christmas |
Liar is your element like Lithium and Argon |
I’m here to prove it, you losing gives me a hard on |
Got bars long, from married moms selling Arbonne |
The Stella Artois coaster poster with the hard gloss |
I’m from Maine where I don’t gotta keep my car locked |
M’s on my mind like I’m playing for Jim Harbaugh |
I’m not restricted to conventional thought |
I risk it all, got balls like intentional walks |
You make me wanna tee-hee like Rob Gronk |
'cause life’s a bitch like it was your dog’s mom |
You think your circle’s dope but P. Dank know it isn’t, though |
You’re all a bunch of squares like some sticky notes |
I’m a nice guy, but my jaw is mean |
Your rhymes weaker than the hand on the claw machine |
So fuck your concert, bro, I’m mad I came to it |
I had a better time getting robbed in St. Louis |
They tried to doubt me from the first verse that I laid the tape |
But I practiced up, went and made mistakes |
Never slept much, while the rest was, keep my reps up |
Gotta get a step up so I stayed awake |
Nodoz in my bars, no Xanny |
Flows more like nose candy, no Mars |
Still my whole family’s large |
And we gracin' stages |
Amazin' pace that we lace the page with |
Some folks’ll fake it 'til they come face to face with the greatness |
You lazy faded suckers who fuck up a beat, I duff and repeat |
Meet four knuckles that will touch you and fuck up your week |
Told dudes I showed to prove |
Reps dope, cold aloof |
I wreck flows from the shows and booth |
You can check Snopes so you know the truch |
We move swiftly, the crew’s with me, the mood uplift me |
Shoot the harpoon from the calypso to skew the fishy |
Your view is iffy, your image is weak |
Over before you started, you artists too timid to speak |
The meek shall inherit the shit that I choose to leave without |
Please believe me, it’s Mike Beasley, the beast |
Peace, I’m out |
I backslap rappers physically and vocally, I’m the one y’all hope to be |
A motherfucking giant, it’s impossible not to notice me |
I’ll Sean Carter roundhouse, that’s the shit that I’m about |
I don’t need no topic, I just say some shit and sound it out |
A motivated man, with a master plan |
Dropping verses over bangers thanks to God.Damn.Chan |
I turn Gold River stone killer, jealous fucking spade bitter |
While I’m steady laughin', I’m 'bout to make this happen |
Y’all some sing-along silly fucks, talk slick but really suck |
Tell your moms to call me, I got ways for her to make a buck |
I don’t need no luck, I got the gift, fuck a «what if» |
I’m what is that dopeness, y’all motherfuckers hopeless |
I spaz out and start slapping up people |
I’m a beast with an attitude, I’m oh so evil |
This is part one of one, ain’t gon' be no sequel |
And as far as rapping go, I’ve never met my equal, one |