Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Leff Field, artist - Twiztid. Album song Mirror Mirror, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.03.2015
Record label: Psychopathic
Song language: English
Leff Field |
Smoke a square and then prepare yourself |
Monoxide, Monox-boogie, Mo-Diddy, Mo-Something |
Smoke something, smoke a square, smoke a square bitch |
Me and Violent, Me and Violent J |
I’m the wickedest of wicked and by far |
I’m destined for greatness |
Killing off you people hate this |
Now you can raise us in the top notch |
Mag or book |
And we still won’t give you fags a look |
Bitch boy, I’m gay-bashing |
Come see my gun |
I never hated fags till I got sued by one (by one) |
My mental picture is painting me something ugly |
And I still don’t understand how my hands got all bloody |
It’s the Juggla! |
A juggalo role-model |
I stab people in the neck with a broken beer bottle |
And then you meet me and expect a nice guy |
You’re lucky I ain’t stuck a screw driver in your eye yet (hound dogs) |
When I sign an autograph, I see you chopped up in my tub, soaking in a blood |
bath |
With demons pissing on you like ROCK THE DEAD! |
(thoughts in my head) |
I’m getting glued the fuck out with my homie fucking Violent J |
And we don’t give a fuck about nothing you fucking bitches say |
We speak the word and he unheard the mystify |
And when you see us, hug your momma and give her a kiss goodbye |
It’s a long dark ride, where you going there ain’t no holding back |
I’m the reaper in this bitch, there ain’t no coming back |
My tongue in fact conceal a casket |
And spit some shit, so off the rip, it’s a classic |
Shut the fuck up, when we speaking bitch |
Ain’t yo mamma ever taught you shit |
We stab individuals in they fatal spots |
You got nine lives? |
Well I got 10 shots (yeah!) |
I remember when we first got started |
Clown paint and faygo, you thought we was retarded (whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!) |
Finally got you in the front row wilin |
Now I’m gonna do it again with Zug Izland |
I’m a axe holder, user, deep throater |
Wouldn’t know a juggalo if I showed ya shadowless |
My reflection still casts a demon with green eyes behind stained glass |
I see spirits and I talk to people that ain’t there |
They seem to vanish in thin air |
Why don’t you get ghost homie, raise up |
While me and Violent J roll the weed and blaze it up (what?) |
Real ass juggalos is all I care about (who?) |
Fuck everybody else, and I don’t want to hear about |
And I don’t give a fuck if you know someone that’s down |
I’ll grab you by your neck and fling your fucking head around |
I won’t sign nothing |
Fuck taking a picture |
Fuck shaking your hand, I’ll pull you at me and hit you (plaw!) |
Then I kick ya fucking guts in until your ribs break |
There’s your mutha fucking hand shake, bitch (bitch, bitch, bitch) |