Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sh*t Rock, artist - The Doppelgangaz. Date of issue: 17.02.2014
Song language: English
Sh*t Rock |
| Hey yo It’s time for a confession, it’s best if I just testify |
| From years of going in on myself, I been desensitized |
| Yo shorty down for sessions, no way she got some friends with thighs |
| But on the spot I’m good for thinking of some defensive lies |
| I say yo baby girl let’s not make this a spectacle |
| Your nose is out of place, plus your face is in-symmetrical and |
| Look at them chesticles and I’m feeling some other hun |
| Your one of them is just slightly smaller than the other one |
| Yo how am I supposed to be performing under these conditions? |
| I been hit up the doctor, Yo I been filled out prescriptions |
| I took them joints so long I started developing a resistance |
| It’s like, playing discus where they’re tearing in your meniscus |
| But yo, I’m getting women wishing me the best of wishes |
| And plenty shortys sending me some messages with pictures |
| Talking about your majesty here’s the digits let me take a stab at |
| Defying the laws of gravity, and |
| Defying the laws of physics |
| Yo |
| Let’s get home |
| Get high |
| Get wine |
| Get schnapps |
| Recline |
| In time |
| Get mine |
| Get knocked |
| It’s fine |
| But mid-top |
| This dime just slid Oc |
| Whole shit got gridlocked |
| Hey yo I’m gonna get my shit rocked x3 |
| A nigga gonna get his shit rocked |
| Hey yo I’m gonna get my, check it |
| Ayo shorty living in Montclair |
| Got Moncler, My blunt, Conair |
| Blowing the hair by the armoire, In the armchair |
| Forty fortune brassiere Holdin a pair, Of the most rare |
| Cover the pair shaped fair skinned twins up in the air |
| A couple of grams of snore up in the cans of war, plans a bore |
| When she took out the cans, and let, both of my hands support |
| Random thought, If this chicks bathed for really |
| I spray up the club though she got prey to Willy, feel me? |
| She go wherever the guy go, spy go to the Tahoe |
| She fiending for the braggiole |
| I’m leaning for the console, scheming on her tonsils |
| She want to get frisky, but I can’t get off of no whiskey |
| Not even half-chub, shriveled like out of the bath tub |
| She laughed, shrug, giggled and told me to pack up |
| Shorty let’s back up and, let’s try it again |
| But I can’t pretend |
| A player won’t cry in the end |
| Yo |
| Let’s get home |
| Get high |
| Get wine |
| Get schnapps |
| Recline |
| In time |
| Get mine |
| Get knocked |
| It’s fine |
| But mid-top |
| This dime just slid Oc |
| Whole shit got gridlocked |
| Hey yo I’m gonna get my shit rocked x3 |
| A nigga gonna get his shit rocked |
| Hey yo I’m gonna get my, check it |