| I’m all over the fretboard
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| Do it next door, flowing fluent since F4
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| Slamming whammy bars on amateurs, Pamela’s
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| Sub-par perimeters, pleasing cheesin for cameras
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| The summit ain’t far, they’re flummoxed how I done it
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| Eating hummus, Sammy Hagar, spray bars
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| I complete each speech I start
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| I keep trucking like Dysart’s, till I get my piece of the pie chart
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| I jest, bidest, ingest that I’m the best
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| Fingerpickin' on fiction it’s picturesque
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| I hope you brought some film, Peter’s hot as pottery
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| Just busted out the kiln from Wells town
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| Fell down but held down like barre chords
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| I need oxygen, they boxed me in the cardboard
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| Steadily cramped like refugee camps in Darfur
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| Blurred, spittin' word, flippin' parkour
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| Cold cuts, scissors in the blizzard with the art form
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| You bet your Cinnamon Toast Crunch
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| I saw you backstabbers, gentlemen, I don’t front
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| I know I’m better than the veterans embedded in your settlements
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| The way I said it should’ve turned a Evan to a Evelyn
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| And when it comes to rhymes they’ll find us
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| In the starting line up, I don’t need a supper till the time’s up
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| Word guitar solos, duo or dolo
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| Judo or jiu jitsu, two pit bulls in a dojo
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| And we don’t need no Clicquot to reload for each show
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| In beast mode, they’ll stand there watchin', gawkin' like a free throw
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| What you mad at me fo'? |
| I can’t help it
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| Making Celtics green, melted cheese, I’m just me |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Word Guitar Solo, artist - Spose. Album song Good Luck With More Life EP, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп