Lyrics Party Rap Sucks - Themselves, Bus Driver

Party Rap Sucks

Scrape me of the belly of
Air Force Ones and square whore’s tongues…
Where they don’t hellen their valour
In the hire of cowards
Top speeds
Out of your hermetic retreat
Knockneed
By the ever present beep beeps
Crossbreed
Polarities that would be neat
Gosh jeez
These personalities could pre-heat
Ricotta cheese
Oozing out the company’s teat
Drop to your knees
Until the boss screams «Skeet skeet»
Or jot freely
On this fermented tea leaf
God speed
Expressionism has no cheat sheet
Eyeballs bleed
When you play my clip on repeat
Fall to your knees, fucker
This is no politico schmoe stump
But it is my proto-punk
For fools who don’t know stuff
Throwing dinner parties in a SoHo dump
You can’t hear it unless you grow your nuts
«Rappers want to party not rap»
See what it is they ignant’de’librate, simp on indifferent
Like it were Gibraltar the rock of all wisdom mock em, I pimp em
It’s all the sun lets me hit em with’ll the uncivil the dumbed
And everything this side a numb please step your deaf’s back
While I axe on all these cattle fed capsules half-happy for Babel
I ain’t no adder of 'posed ta and reins
I got the powder of gun on run in my viense and all that’s
Under my name…