Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wasted, Pt. 2 , by - Twiztid. Song from the album Get Twiztid, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 14.04.2014
Record label: Twiztid
Song language: English
Wasted, Pt. 2 |
| The party don’t stop |
| Light it up, drink it up |
| Whatever it takes for you to get fucked up |
| Here we go, we got a gang of 'em |
| Wasted Part 2 |
| I got Ouzo, Gin, Henny, Goose |
| Ciroc and Crown Royal up in the vocal booth |
| Shot after shot and I’m passing the whiskey flash |
| Pour the splash on the ground for sobriety, yo its passed |
| And I’m turned up like volume |
| Bangin' up in this bitch |
| Real players throw your chips |
| Ain’t no splitting no bottles shit |
| Got the Cognac, Gravol, Remmy and Patron |
| We all spending the night, ain’t nobody makin' it home |
| Even the designated driver drunk, pukin', passin' out |
| Fuck it, we walk to the liquor store to cop another round |
| You it ain’t no party like a Twiztid thrown down |
| With liquor and weed everywhere you know it’s finna go down |
| Wasted! |
| I’m just gettin' fucked up |
| Got some drink in my cup and I’m 'bout to turn up |
| Wasted! |
| And light the joint now cause we fin' to smoke out |
| I’mma never turn down |
| I’m like boomshaka! |
| Gettin' high with Chewbacca |
| Beefin' with Luke’s father |
| Cause I smoke the Skywalker |
| Higher then aliens joyriding in flying saucer |
| Feeling it in my shins to the top of my oblongata |
| I’m smoking out on a lotta |
| Marijuana and now I feel like I better go outta |
| Whoever house that it is that I’m standing inside of |
| Gotta be going outta his mind cause I vomited on his carpet |
| Can’t think of how it started but I smoked myself retarded |
| And I’d do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing regardless |
| Floatin' by like a comet, chronic you know I got it |
| So let everybody know there’s a party at my apartment |
| Call me Indiana cause I’m Jonesin' for another drink |
| St-stuttering off «sutter home» I don’t care what my mother thinks |
| 99 bottles of beer on the wall, take one down, I’m «on the brink» |
| Of spewing alcohol from out my jaw into the sink |
| This isn’t me, I can’t believe I’m doing this |
| I had a wholesome image but Twiztid gonna make me ruin it |
| I’m new at this, now I’m getting shots like flu season |
| My reason to sooth demons |
| Where’s my head? |
| I think I’m losing it! |
| My brain’s stolen, so please hit me if you find it |
| Cause I know I’m hella Polish but I’m drinking like I’m Irish |
| When I wake up in the morning I’ll be hungover and really broke |
| I’m seeing crooked like looking at Owen Wilson’s nose |
| Doing nothing just sipping bitch |
| Goose real fast till your turned up in the dark |
| Do something real bad till you’re K-O-O-P-S-T-A |
| Get fucked up, white boy wasted every fuckin' day |
| My sizzler, my liquor, that white stuff is contagious |
| Lower me if you seein' this clear, no puff |
| Get bucked down 'fore fool pulled out bust |
| Bitch nigga weed don’t get me high |
| Anytime till the fuckin' sun rise! |
| Here for Pall Mall and some good haze |
| And I’m turned up nigga, nigga everyday |
| Yes I’m so high, yes I’m so high |
| And I smoke weed, nigga till the day I die |
| Tear the club up, tear the club up |
| Let me see you tear the motherfuckin' club up |
| Better yet bruh, better yet bruh |
| Let’s roll these motherfuckin' blunts up |
| I’m a tiss, get a task, get a green and purple basket |
| Get Twiztid like a motherfucker, smoking on some cabbage |
| Never had a problem smoking loud, I do this |
| White boys fuckin' with me, put 'em on that bullshit |
| Tricked out, weed grinder, bad bitch behind her |
| Puttin' on for my city I’m the headliner |
| This shit cost money, pay for it, dope as fuck |
| Every city, every night, and I’m looking for the bud |
| Walk up in the room with a party pack on me homie |
| Got green, got white, got purp on me |
| Every motherfuckin' color in the rainbow |
| Sissy white girl pussy wetter than a raincoat |
| She got a deep throat, I got a deep hole |
| Pussy warmer than a fuckin' baked potato |
| We on that evil shit, I’ll break your fuckin' halo |
| It’s Da Mafia and Twiztid bitch, lay low! |
| Gettin' toxic wasted, when I drop it I rock the pavement |
| Shit somebody shoulda locked the basement |
| On the loose, pour another shot of vodka, take it |
| Till I need a new liver, please doc replace it! |
| Live with no rules, why y’all play it so cool? |
| I be streaking down the street like Will Ferrell in Old School |
| Fuckin' O’dules, bitch my belly is a brewery |
| Been drinking since before I hit puberty, this ain’t new to me |
| Sippin' till I spit up, vomit in the tip cup |
| And stumble out the club, mumblin' in between my hiccups |
| So try to understand me |
| My alcoholic tendencies tend to be causing blackouts like hurricane Sandy |
| You got me Twiztid, to give a dab is terrific |
| I be lifted and plastered off eric and bass' my air remains specific |
| My perspective, fuck you buzzkill when I’m wasted |
| Fuck pacin', I’m chasin' every bad memory to erase it |
| My brain isolates, I’m concentrates and Jameson |
| With a Crown Royal reserve, starting to hear reverb |
| Pardon me, I’m carding every girl at the party |
| That I’m hardly embarking so I’m not marching at the wrong target |
| I’m the martian that’s artistic |
| I’m an arsonist rock star, double fisted |
| With a black Irish car bomb and a back bar |
| Throwing fireballs at you, we hire ya’ll come kicks it |
| We Kung Fu Vampire and Twiztid |
| Hookers going up in the bedroom, tripped out on a bad shroom |
| Coke sluts sniffed up with a nostril like a vacuum |
| Naked chicks with tracks on their arms, these heroin hoes |
| «If it bleeds, we can kill it» like the line from Predator goes |
| The way my vocals get these bitches drippin' and turned on |
| They can take their drawers off and water the front lawn |
| Spittin' at the popo, white snow hoes sniffin' blow |
| Like the Nate Dogg chorus from Mos Def — Oh No |
| It’s a no go, glide a bolo blow, wreckin' your jaw |
| Blood sport, bolo — weapon of war, I’m an arm throw |
| A grown man, why I resort to these childish antics? |
| I get these pill poppin' parents panickin', poppin' they xanax |
| Speed up, I’m beggin' for the bullets |
| You’re barkin', I get you bitin' the barrel and bustin' |
| Dipping and diving and ducking |
| Hittin' the trigger like a percussion put a slug in your gut |
| And slow down, liquid adrenaline outta the shot glass |
| You suckas will not last, you’re fucking with God’s trash |
| Come on |