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letra de cooked - dead players

[jam baxter]
(yeah… look…)

[verse 1: jam baxter]
i’m on a wave every night like f-ck ’em
two more drops in a spiked white russian
i stashed that treasure in a hole in my mind
so my eyes glow gold every time i shut ’em
roll on set like my fam cousin
i’m at the bar, running out, awkward game
on a gurned up goth with a streamlined curse
tryna feed my words in a tortured brain
but, i ain’t on a next ball and chain
and i been on a hype since champion fraff
it’s a wonder how the kid’s still standing
if you ain’t on a mosh you can stand at the back
pour a whole bottle in a big bag of ice cubes
cut a little hole in the bottom and hang it up
spend a couple hours hooked up to the drip and
roll out when your rumbling stomach has had enough

[dabbla]
(so i was like…)

[verse 2: dabbla]
wargwarn petal
bleed for that first cl-ss seat
you can keep that cheap bit of metal
i beat motherf-ckers in the head till they get it
when they don’t, they be like woah, wyle down, seccle
the dark, i’m special
ain’t never lost sleep on a silly old clique in the vessel
speak of the devil
deep in the belly but it doesn’t matter cause you couldn’t creep on my level
we don’t wrestle
we knock ’em out flat with one slap and laugh at the pile
dance around ’em, all pointing and giggling
k!lling any, illegitimate problem child
oi d-ck breath, i been around for a while
i smile (argh), i spit (ah), that vile
one hundred eyes for the style
i’m true by an inch, i’m true by a mile

[hook]
that’s war
ate ’em all raw
selling ’em the poisons, selling ’em the cure
bottles of the cheap sh-t spilling on the floor
cut ’em into pieces, slip ’em in the jaw
my mind’s all cooked, ate ’em all cooked
fling ’em in the furnace, tell ’em it’s a look
left ’em in a back room hanging on a hook
bruv let’s cook
come let’s cook
ate ’em all cooked

[jam baxter]
(rah!)

[verse 3: jam baxter]
guess ’em, you lemon
i see you perfected your chief impression
it’s your resident freakin’ session
it all went black for a fleeting second
i was parked up on the face of a sheer precipice
puffing a hallucinogenic with a pipe
the feds were out slivering an m17
tryna lock up any wandering city sl1cker in sight
but, nothing like a fountain of chaos (nuttin!)
but i ain’t sure where the honour is
whole crew looking like a zombie apocalypse
couldn’t tell who’s grinning face was the rottenest
right now i just wanna wyle out, right now i just wanna roll in
pulling out every single dead and buried world from my face
like a million millenia i’m folding

[dabbla]
(nuttin!)

[verse 4: dabbla]
nothin like anything that you’ve come across
motherf-ckers loving a proper feeling in the dance
they be like, dabbla you gotta give them a chance
i be like, f-ck ’em they nowhere near as advanced
i should raise the level and show them a little thing or two
instead of blending in but they keep on dragging it -rs-
battering a lyric and doing it really fast
bussing up your lip when i’m dipping in glue and gl-ss
anyone who know what they’re talking about
will tell you that my family be murdering anything that they touch
got nothing to say but i got them all in my clutch
wouldn’t call it living the dream, it’s a bit much
couldn’t give a million f-cks, and for the rush, and paper cuts
i’m grinning and billing a bit of dutch
brushing them aside and then leaving them there to rust
until it’s dust, and all of the compet-tion is crushed

- dead players

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