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letra de six pack - depressive tongue posse

[sharxxx]

25 dollars and some bammer in a grape wrap
verses so sloppy cuz i motherf-ckin’ hate rap
everybody do the same sh-t, can’t take that
save the battle, cuz i’m like dale on the racetrack
i don’t give a f-ck, even if you pay me a salary
rappers are a snack, b-tch, i’m 300 calories
slammin’ on the gas, grave city on the map and we
are back on the planet where police can’t h-ssle me
smoke crack at a crosswalk, toss off trash in my path
right in front of a smart car
pull back on the hammer and blast on a boss, and a cop
cuz the shark gonna start war
part four halloween-type mask
and i’m p-ssin’, and grabbin’, and smashin’ yo smart phone
real recognize real stupid -ss b-st-rds
you blast me online but it only makes my heart cold

[prof]

alright, yo, it’s the professor, here to bring you all to ruin
you’re so busy playing god, i was just tryin’ to play human
it’s stupid
the way you come on all-consuming, the illusion is truth
‘cause your confusion is consuming
now that i’m back on this grave city track
gonna set a couple fires, gonna talk a little smack
got a huge f-ckin’ union, and we’re gearin’ for attack
yeah, it’s proven you’ll be f-cked with our boots around your neck

[sharxxx]

never let a lack of cheddar get the better of me
d-e-p-r-e-s homie
s-i-v-e, bet you know the rest, homie
test my nuts? (nope!) that’s a mess, homie
only thing i be ever doin’ is lightin’ up the buddha
with the froot, and playin’ super nintendo shootahz
homie, i’m gonna get a clue for you, and let you know
that you can neither rap or produce, you a loo-sah

[prof]

you’re a loser, alcohol abuser
f-ck with me, you’ll find yourself outmaneuvered
armed to the t–th like a battlecruiser
95 rich c-nts nailed to the church is my thesis, yeah, martin luther
my mind was lost long ago, and so i call it ‘atlantis,’
my favorite hobby’s robbin’ banks, but i don’t like takin’ chances
leave no witnesses, turn mansions to ashes, the m-sses know
the only true wars between cl-sses

i don’t give a f-ck about nothin’
why don’t you leave me alone?
(get f-cked mane)

- depressive tongue posse

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