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letra de shine likah star - crown hutch

-hey, this is kain from chicago and my weekend song is…-

shine likah star/ like it’s everything you are/ like a/
like a star/ like it’s everything you are/ gotta/
burn like a barn like it’s everything you own/ like a/
like a barn, like it’s everything you own that ain’t bad

i got double-sided tape/ take lint from fleece pants
left bionic arm to disarm the policeman
nice evil regal sucka beagle/ you’re not hip
poisonous lips flip/ sipped some paint drips
time travellin/ i’m travellin/ 3rd of july of nine-five
b-tch shifted on my d-ck and now my d-ck’s alive
kabul, abu dhabi, dubai because a helicopter/
natty on the funk beat got me h-lla proper/
doctored dr. pepper colas with they own lids/
thomas call me tom pickles with they own kids/
wasted, thin-waisted pasty b-tch is hitting roads/
crown hutch, press me together, i’m about to explode/
i’m about to explode right now/ press the b-tton crown hutch

-my weekend song is…-

you step into the booth, like spooky ghosts for cursed rehearsal /
face like a godd-mn cl-ss action face commercial/
quit rapping/ go on a mountain/ have it tell you what you’re best in/
face like a godd-mn…win a new face replacement game show contestant, wow/

i’m the bane of tarzan, in his hut, in his wife/
ninety-nine calories from gluttonous life/
barely barelling downhill, gold trumpets and light/
shoulder on my hand, it’ll be alright/
my fans fixate/ on asphyxiating while they’re waiting/ mixtaping
yeah, while i’m taping the mix/
and now i’m back in the midst of being mistaken for wit/
but i’m not giving a sh-t because i’m f-cking crown hutch…/

i sleep standing up…in peruvian oils, i’ll pile-drive a cop into oily, dirty, f-cking fat jerusalem soils

everybody know she’s got nice–ss -ss/
and i’m the rap -ss-ssin, b-tch, in case you’re askin/
i’m shooting up drugs with guns and b-tch i’m robbin baskins/
robbin robin robinson for walter jacobson’s faxes/
platinum axes caress the m-sses/
this b-tch relaxes while she’s doing her taxes/
i like her hair so much…it’s making me feel g-y/
i like her dress so much, it’s making me feel g-y/
like her shoes so much, it’s making me feel g-y/
i’m chillin out in the country on a big stack of hay/
b-tch, smoking-hot-b-tch/ i’m blunt-smoking pots which/
makin me feel high, though/
like fourth of july, though/
like up in the sky, though/
everybody: get dough!/
pizza men flip dough but i don’t give a sh-t, though/
make you suck my d-ck, ho/ new york times six though/
break my d-ck off inside her/ like i’m bad
i’m thinkin about…..

i’m thinkin about mich-lle pfeiffer/

like i’m bad/

you step into the booth/ like spooky ghosts for cursed rehearsal/
face like a godd-mn cl-ss action face commercial…

– this is shawn from chicago and my favorite weekend song is…-

- crown hutch

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