| Sipping Café au lait
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| Hold the flute by the stem
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| Simply OJ
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| Mix it with the gold bottles
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| My role models ride Rolls Royces
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| Puff hand rolled cigars at the grotto
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| Cold oysters
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| Never too busy to get fresh
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| I’m boisterous
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| I keep your bitch moist
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| I’m poison
|
| Anoint the clit
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| Willie the Kid’s flow
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| Sharper than stalagmites
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| I’m never stagnant
|
| Stagger off the jet
|
| Wipe the smile off your face
|
| I don’t do a lot of joking
|
| Pop champagne
|
| My niggas do a lot of smoking
|
| Smuggle everything
|
| We’re from that low budget area
|
| Plan to land choppers on aircraft carriers
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| Straight to the dock
|
| Got returns on my stock
|
| Come
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| From a good stock
|
| Pink stains on my smock
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| I’m an artist
|
| Regardless
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| All my niggas hood though
|
| Charming young man
|
| I could bag Lisa Kudrow
|
| Least we ain’t fold, sell our souls, or sell each other out
|
| And that’s more than I can say about most of ya’ll
|
| Doubt is all mental
|
| Grimier than kraut flow (?)
|
| Sicker than the gout
|
| Fundamental
|
| And I don’t give a fuck about none of ya’ll
|
| Just have that money right
|
| I’m a clean nigga
|
| I like my house clean
|
| Like my bitches clean
|
| Keep my car clean
|
| Keep my son fresh
|
| Food in the pantry
|
| Bookshelf full of books
|
| Niggas can’t be
|
| Fucking serious
|
| Shit is hilarious
|
| Delirium
|
| Delirium
|
| Yeah, Look
|
| Pastor, preacher
|
| That’s strapped with ether
|
| You rapping divas
|
| I can’t compete with ya’ll faggy features and happy feet
|
| But I smack your teeth with the back of heaters
|
| My tracks are deeper
|
| Bitch I spazzed on beats
|
| Since I had a beeper
|
| Matter fact, I had a trapper keeper
|
| A pre-teen
|
| I dispersed my hurt
|
| Now I don’t just bury my foes
|
| I make them turn in dirt
|
| Observe my thirst
|
| As my over-wordy verse will murder jerks
|
| I’m at your door like it’s October 31st
|
| Trick!
|
| No mask on, or costume
|
| Animated nigga
|
| Not a cartoon
|
| This is for my block goons
|
| Corny boys, heat holders, Glock popping G’s
|
| From the killers seeing death to the dudes watching Glee
|
| I got them
|
| I’ll be going in
|
| You don’t even got to see me like blowing wind to know i’m a blow and win
|
| I flow and grin cuz this shit is just crazy simple
|
| Like stealing a baby’s Skittles
|
| Ya’ll ain’t fucking with me
|
| Look
|
| I rhyme with ease
|
| I combine with beats
|
| Like I’m siamese
|
| God defined a freak when designing me
|
| So any label signing me
|
| It’s like you let a live disease
|
| Inside the streets
|
| I blind the weak
|
| I’m spreading it virally anytime I leak
|
| And I don’t comment on nothing
|
| I let my progress speak
|
| Now that ya’ll have found me, the game’s over
|
| Hide and seek
|
| Yo
|
| Pau the chest basher
|
| Raw the skin clapper
|
| Sean Price (P!!!)
|
| Allah’s best rapper (Yes!)
|
| Touch the mic when I get off the stage
|
| And get beat the fuck up when you get off the stage
|
| The rage
|
| I control is civilized
|
| The gauge, I am known to kill a guy
|
| I don’t know about you
|
| But I’m well known homes
|
| And I don’t know about you
|
| Asia, Africa, Tokyo, Japan
|
| My razor slash your okydoke with hands
|
| Cock the skit (?) and blam the cannon
|
| I’m old school like mock necks and Chandra Barren (?)
|
| Truth be truth when I step in the booth
|
| And my son’s got talent
|
| Call him musical youth
|
| Haha
|
| But don’t pass the dutch
|
| I’m professional so when I’m finished pass the bucks
|
| Motherfucker |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Delirium, artist - Sean Price. Album song The Living Daylights, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп