Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Space, artist - Tonedeff. Album song Hyphen, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: QN5
Song language: English
Space |
There is space all around us |
Space that occupies the length of the sky from the ground up |
It abounds and astounds us |
Space that we just can’t wait to eliminate when we’ve found lust |
And the very thing we pray for when our mates are starting to hound us |
The sound of space silent, and breaking the speed of sound is violent |
But it’s necessary to crack the atmosphere to find it |
There’s Space between cars when you’ve sped in the streets that should never |
Be breached or you’re dead and deceased |
There’s even space between Letterman’s teeth |
You’d better increase the space between us |
Cause personal space invaders get their gender planets switched from Mars to |
Venus |
Banished into uncharted regions, sandwiched between millenniums |
Challengers get brandished as wasted space like their perineum’s |
Space is at a premium, so guard your place |
It’s hard to take a harsher fate, than cats jacking your parking space |
Your car’s displaced, and I fit in where I can, and if you’re a guy |
Your petitioning women to fill up the space between their thighs |
And I’ve realized that space is what makes safer sex |
Relying on rubbers that won’t break or stretch, to place your bets |
I raise the question and most heads will take a guess |
Why? |
Cause most cats ain’t smart enough to be Astronauts |
But make amazing Space Cadets |
I’m acing tests, cause I’m known perform with grace |
Scorching 'em over breaks — my mind serves as my lyrical storage space |
I’ve scorched the bass drum, and I’ve spared snares when the board’s recording |
My big bang theory states that space got more suns than George Foreman |
I’m tormenting rappers that are 2 faced cheaters |
Claiming their block is hot |
But only with the power set to max on their space heaters |
The waste they feed us is alarming |
Their CDs are overpriced like living space in lower Manhattan apartments |
There’s space in a coffin, for your remains to be rotten |
Space that is made of stars, and space that’s contained in a carton |
Space in this game for those willing to suffer pain |
Space for a new thought to stuff in your brain |
But there’s no space in my FUCKING name |