Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Krylon, artist - Terror Reid. Album song HOT VODKA 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 07.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: TERROR REID
Song language: English
Krylon |
| Take a step back, you busy moving behind me |
| Way too high of altitude for you to even find me |
| You tiny, I smack your little hiney, you slimy fucknut |
| There ain’t a word in this world that define me |
| What’s up? |
| We got a runner, a roadrunner |
| Load the chopper gunner, take him out inside his own hummer |
| Misuse drugs daily, become a recluse |
| Get loose, I guess that’s always the excuse |
| Magnificent, sophisticated rhythm, I define |
| Overdrive, go check the definition |
| Make a precise incision and proceed with decisions to kill 'em |
| (Kill 'em all) Position with that over-ambitious condition |
| This is how I do all of my operations |
| I’m never doing anythin' in moderation |
| And I never give anybody co-operation |
| Nope, never, not once, not even on occasion |
| I got these sucker MC’s wrapped around my finger like some rings |
| Now bow the fuck down to The King |
| Don’t be playin' with the West Coast Super Saiyan |
| I hear you talk a lot of shit, but ain’t shit until you get to sprayin' |
| Stay payin' all my bills, poppin' on my pills |
| Robbin' all the banks with my GTA-skills |
| What’s the beat, kid? |
| This shit a banger, Tanquer — |
| — ray up in my cup, I hate to sang it |
| In love with the money bags |
| Motherfucker spittin' out shit like a white ass |
| Rollin' fast down your block in a ski mask, lookin' for a dollar sign |
| Where the weed at, huh? |
| Bitch, I seen that |
| I’m a Sticky icky nitpicky, tickin' time bomb |
| Swear on my mom’s, yo, my shit is beyond |
| Givin' you a cold shoulder to cry on |
| I’m in the corner with a cap, I’m spraying Krylon |
| Infect your mind with my intellect |
| No indirect attackin', I be on my best |
| And then I’m always every day to keep the world upset |
| I’m living 'ere-up-in-ya head 'til you snap ya neck |
| Lay low for a second, then I come back up |
| And act up on you cunts, then I ash my blunt |
| Inside ya eye sockets, shoot rockets that can’t be blocked |
| And every year wanted a model where I can’t be stopped |
| The radius is infinite, so if you think that you can hide |
| You better go find another shelter to go inside |
| Different planet to inhabit 'cause we cannot coincide |
| On this one, I don’t have a fuck to give, son |
| Let the beat drop to keep on my feet, hot |
| Say one wrong word, you kicking your teeth knocked out |
| You on the verge of death, begging me, please stop (please stop) |
| But I’ll never stop shit, just sippin' my tea pot |
| I — murder da beat and drop it off on your front porch |
| And that’s the real reason why your parents got divorced |
| There more coke in my day than Scott Storch |
| The human torch, put me out and throw me overboard |
| Doobie lit, duelie cocked, machete in my sock |
| Duly noted, but I knew you was a cop |
| And that shit ain’t gon' fly, I’m a smoked out, bloked out |
| Sword swinging kinda guy, and I’m tryna die |
| Get outta line, son, and stay there |
| I pull up with more snow than a Coca-Cola polar bear |
| Stayin' dope, I poke a lot of smot in the parkin' lot |
| Takin' up three handicap spots |
| Grab the cash up out my palace |
| Sippin' on Dom Pérignon out my chalice |
| Trippin' like Alice, straight malice, throwin' off your balance |
| Bustin' rap so fast, I give your fat ass a callus |