Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mushroom Clouds , by - Young AspectRelease date: 20.10.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Mushroom Clouds |
| Two handfuls of shrooms and I’m lookin for trouble |
| I stomp down on instrumentals till I’m pullin a muscle |
| I drop acid until anything I look at is doubled |
| A rabid dog yappin jaws yeah I should get a muzzle (but fuck it) |
| Ya’ll done had it comin, I’m runnin through the forest |
| Hold a Glock at Goldie Locks I’ll fuckin snuff 'em for his porridge |
| Or go get your mother and poke a hole in a rubber |
| You’ll get to meet your little brother when you come home for supper |
| Then I get at Aspect 'n tell him we need the c-saw |
| There’s weed between the keys on his beringer keyboard |
| Body bags, they come equipped with a zipper |
| I’m writin names out in blood till they gettin the picture |
| I’ll meet your sister then and trick her into lickin my shitter |
| Tippin the ricter, you probly wife a chick who’s a stripper |
| You bozo’s with no flow, don’t know lyrics |
| All you do is make love songs and no hoes hear it, pussy |
| Young Aspect |
| God body, I pray to God like I’m John Gotti |
| On dead bodies, I got your girl in a thong probly |
| I’m not sober I’m holdin this chainsaw |
| I’m close to insane, ya’ll better know me by name (yeah) |
| I lace weed, smoke it and rake leaves |
| I got a bag of pills, tell your bitch to take 3 |
| I don’t give a fuck bitch, you can lick my nut sack |
| I’m rockin a dookie chain, reppin a fuckin hub cap |
| My brain is ill cause it fell and hit the floor |
| And when I was a little boy just bein happy was a chore |
| I got satan on my shoulder shootin heroin |
| I’m fuckin prostitutes on the 3rd floor of the Sheraton |
| I met a bitch named Cassie, she’s a fatty |
| And last week I fucked her in the back seat of a taxi |
| This is high on cocaine with a crow bar |
| This is no joke I’m dope and I go hard |
| Charlie Fettah |
| The water gettin murky so I’m scratchin at my scars |
| I got paint up on my fingertips from cuttin through yo yard |
| Not hard I lean back with a green sack |
| Yo team lack skill, necessary feedback, sucka beat that |
| The boom bap, beat me up I had to beat back |
| Greedy — made a grip off the grind, here’s a free track |
| Fettah the philanthropist, bars I’m spittin — cancerous |
| If sway don’t got the answers then yay don’t know what the answer is |
| Hard to live glamorous when your terrain is hazardous |
| Team full’a gonnies low lives vandals and anarchists |
| High as a kite puffin shatter budder and cannabis |
| Hungry like I’m homeless ya my people livin ravenous |
| Never fuck wit ch’yo clique, like we practise abstinence |
| New rap nerds mixin chemistry and calculus |
| End all the b.s. |
| cause Fettah is the catalyst |
| «what up» to all my battlers, hip hop naturalists |
| The wordsmith, I collected payments with my cadence |
| Practise make perfect, my people pannin the pavement |
| Rats is in the basements in the shadows writin statements |
| While me, Merk and Aspect busy rollin the fragrance |