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letra de no smoking in the house remix - brandon joyce

(no smoking in the house
no smoking in the house
there’s no smoking in the house
so would you please put it out)

i’m a common rapper but without the confident factor
i feel like i’m forcing this sh-t like putting on a condom backward
i’m not a natural. my flow is all fillers and implants
and you can hear it like you hear people running in wind pants
and i’m as douchey as equinox. i should eat a sock
recently c-m inside of by a c-ck through a pizza box
you thinking i don’t got what it takes and you could be right
but i’m the kind of sh-t in the game you can never fully wipe
to break away and make some waves i need some nasal spray
i pay to play and people actually want me to break a leg
it ain’t okay, i lay awake, delaying fate
i’m a temporary artist you throw away like a paper plate
a paperweight would be the best use of my sh-tty album
i’ve barely made a dime and what i’ve put in’s in the thousands
but who the f-ck is counting? my cerebellum’s a bird crumb
my t-st-cl-s are pure sc-m. go f-cking grab your gun
shot shot shot like mario, brother of luigi
my references are old and my vertebrae creaky
man i’m a chicken never written a word of graffiti
and on my bike i can only pop a third of a wheelie
a scaredy-cat with a hairy back who can barely rap
who packed a strawberry snack for battle and then got carried back. i’m bringing bag pipers to rap cyphers wearing glengarry caps and drew out a cemetery map where i should be buried at
i’m very wack. what i lack is a f-cking point of view
everyone i love said i suck and their disappointed too
it’s why i got no fans and have always avoided crews
all i do is look at girls on the sites they’re exploited through
i’m an authentic poser. i pretend my ear is a pencil holder
or act like i’m relaxed as a venice stoner, a mental roamer
really i’m tense and sober. i’m clenching molars
my potential lower than you think just tell me when it’s over
i can’t believe i’m even grabbing this mic
i f-ck it up for everyone just trying to have a good night
it’s like you’re with your friends on a friday
drinking to wax and herbs
then go get tacos and crash and k!ll all your p-ssengers
open your aperture. be a seat buckle fastener
unless you’re capable of constructing a flux capacitor
i’m the biggest downer that planet earth has around her
my flavor is terrible as the turkey burger at the counter
i couldn’t get you to feel me if i was your cl-toris
you wouldn’t give me batteries if my microphone cordless
and plus my d-ck is similar to the nose of a swordfish
i’m going round and round nowhere it’s just the way i orbit
i’ve never seen the forest for the trees i focus on
i load up on a bunch of cr-ppy rhymes and never wrote a song
i’m never getting noticed mom unless i mail potus a bong
no smoking in the white house after dawn
i’m into protein shakes and having bowling dates
my skin’s a moley paste and i like colbie caillat
i should eat a bowl of grenades turn into bolognaise
and pray there ain’t a way for my soul to escape
i am totally fake. i should go to a lake
and try to swim across under water while holding a weight
while wearing roller skates. or stick my face in a mower blade
or put on a cape and run and superman off the golden gate
bridge. then be the dinner of a mauling squid
or be the victim of a falling fridge
or get the sh-t beat out of me by appalling kids
or get my skin melted off by scalding jizz
i’m not a whiz. i’m not the brightest of finger nail polishes
every time i try to use toothpaste i swallow it
guess i’m an idiot knuckleheaded neanderthal
but compared to me you suck dandruff b-lls
you got some cold hard facts to face
you should have a crowbarred-plastered face
blow hard basket case, no heart plastic waste, no bars after eight
you’re the result of a mozart bathroom break
you think you’re fire like the duraflame matches
you’re a pervy, lame, batsh-t, birdbrain catfish
herpes inflamed -ss with a dirt stained mattress
compared to you i’m doing some cirque du soleil backflips
you’re a chode sniffer, toe picker gold digger, troll figure
up your b-tthole sticker, horse sized loaf pincher
go figure you’re a snizzle. i’m a whole blizzard
i pitch no hitters. you pitch slow swimmers
there ain’t a b-n-rs chance in a cold river
that you could flow sicker, it’s why you have grown bitter
you’re a quitter. you’ll never keep up with this lightening bolt spitter. i’ve got the magic of a old wizard
you are the biggest of b-tches i’ve seen in my life
and i’m being polite. you are the type that has no might
you need ghostwriters just to even the fight
i take the flight that eagles like
you bite the way that beagles might
drop the beans and rice or pizza slice and i will feed you light
sorry you don’t fit your jeans. reality don’t fit your dreams
everything you say is stale. swish around some mr. clean
thing about your future is whatever you’ve been picturing
isn’t right unless you’ve pictured armpits that you’re l1cking clean
you are the opposite of adorable lemurs
you’re a bunch of unavoidable wieners in deplorable beamers
i wish that you would swallow toilet bowl cleaner
you’re a horrible singer and not metaphorical either
i’m astonished. you need to be honest. you’re not iconic
that undefeated hat that you wear is ironic. it’s f-cking comical
i wouldn’t like your lyrics if they came with liquor
i would rather pop a painful -n-l volcano blister
than here you f-cking paint a picture. i am an ankle twister
the way i dribble around your -ss. see how my angles differ?
i switch it up to keep it fresher than lemonade stands
you sounding like you might hyperventilate, man
i’m fun like trampolines. you’re fun like treadmills
i’m like eating tangerines. you’re like eating breast milk
your mamas was lead filled, so you should have tests done
cuz if you’re not mentally damaged you should be less dumb
you’re music is lifeless, you’re unruly and righteous
i bet you’d cut your d-ck off to give coochie to isis
you’re a groupie. you work at hooli. i kick it with pied piper
you’re a brogrammer. i’m a morning, noon, and night writer
as far as new rappers, i just like one of em
there’s nothing that i’m running from
hear my f-cking hunger come
all your plans have come undone. you should get an entourage
stand on the promenade and rap because you ain’t got a job
i’m crossing seven seas. you crossing letter t’s
you look like you’re special needs. you are in a separate league
i am farah fawset, b-tch, you are farah abraham
if we had to be a farah that is what i’m saying, man
i think your head is vacant, d-mn, i think your spine is bacon
cuz if i ever patted you on the back you would cave in
i think i need a hit of whatever anyone blazin
no smoking in the house except on occasion

ya’ll little like dwarf teapots
every track me and roxy drop is hot biotch
ya’ll small like chris paul
and bring crumbs to the table like an apple crisp involved

- brandon joyce

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