| And in conclusion
|
| P. Dank
|
| I be that broke motherfucker, Maine’s where I’m reppin'
|
| Better than these rappers but nobody buys my record
|
| What you don’t like broke Hova?
|
| You think that I’m more like a Hoover?
|
| Think that I suck, I don’t give a fuck
|
| You can go ahead, hit me with a low blow like a tuba
|
| I don’t toot my horn but
|
| I blew up quick like McGrubber
|
| I didn’t get a Lex like Luger
|
| And I went hard till my cheeks looked fuscia
|
| Used to want to beat King Koopa
|
| Now all I want to beat is the beats
|
| And the freak in the mirror, when the demon appears
|
| I have seen my fears, I could be that loser
|
| Even if it meant quitting reefer
|
| Stop staying high like a roofer
|
| So when you YouTube my manoeuvres
|
| You can see my as a mover, rapper, producer
|
| At the computer, ha!
|
| With a Fender Strat and a pen that’s black
|
| Trying to prove I’m super
|
| While the bass line barks in the woofers
|
| Track liars, trains coming for you goobers
|
| The fat lady is singing notes and ringing of her foopa
|
| I suggest you find a cougar, find a way to dupe her
|
| Into thinking that she’s Demi Moore and you are Ashton Kutcher
|
| Because you’re fucked otherwise, other guys
|
| Besides, we consider these rhymes lullabies
|
| Sleep tight, fuckers!
|
| P. Dank
|
| I’m from where we don’t celebrate soccer wins
|
| Where the broke contrast with the opulent
|
| Most on blast for profitin'
|
| While the folks shake cups on the block cement
|
| Marriages on the rocks again
|
| Mom looking for a new pops again
|
| Kids witnessed all the arguments
|
| Now they lose interest when you talk to them
|
| Oh shit, quick, bring a doctor in
|
| We’re gonna need Facebook and some oxygen
|
| Stat… (EEEH), bring it back
|
| We got spray tanned children, abandoned buildings
|
| Kids stay still ‘cause the cancer killed 'em
|
| I’ll keep moving till I’m handing millions
|
| And I ride till I crash, all kinds of Zildjians
|
| Teachers broke but the man get millions
|
| Or rather, teachers broke but the man get quadrillions
|
| ‘Cause the man stay drillin'
|
| We got children, in buildings, with ceilings, that’s cracked
|
| While villains got villas, they’re chilling, it’s whack
|
| But that’s the Earth, dig in, or get in the dirt
|
| You got one ear that works, could be worse
|
| So if there really is a big fluffy Jesus, tell him let’s get weeded
|
| I know he’s got connections, text him, look, Ryan Peters' needed
|
| I’m speaking, it’s like I’m bleeding, fame like flames pleadin'
|
| I came to change games, it’s lame to blame demons
|
| Proclaim the late evenings, take a break, heathens
|
| I seize this beat screamin', I steam while peeps leavin'
|
| The trees creek, I sleep near my family
|
| The Devil ain’t a fantasy, I know she wants to dance with me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song In Conclusion, artist - Spose. Album song The Audacity!, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп