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letra de \_(,_,)_\turd eye/_(,_,)_/ - james301

[intro: flexasaurus rex]
my third eye open like tien b-tch
pop a molly and i aint even sweatin b-tch
count rackula i count racks like a t-ttie docta
bought to bring the rice out like im playin cookin mama
we don’t f-ck with whonnay jangs that’s for f-ckbois
them boys suspect they prolly f-ck bois
blow racks at mcdonalds, make it work b-tch
eastside texas. dallas and fort worth b-tch

[verse 1:lamesun]

pour a 40 oz for canibus’ career and never paid homage since
i’m on a f-cking boat smoking tree bark with action f-cking bronson
nothing rhymes with bronson shout out to my n-gga action bronson
b-tches love me on facebook, snapchat and twitter
can’t forget the instagram my shoulders stay bitter
i conquer f-cking dragons in the fourth dimension of the earth
slapping b-tches back and forth but i’ve been doing this since birth
5 stacks of motherf-cking iq in less than two weeks

[verse 2: bbds aka ﾐ(o-･ω･)ﾉ]
rap game jo-vaughn virginie scott
leave you lifeless, like you’re laying on a cot
better yet, rg tracy mor’, bustin’ 30 rocks
bosco’s still in the alley suckin’ dirty c-cks
rhymes so hard, they’ll leave your 3rd eye broken
chakraz busted, bleeding, st–zed out in the open
it’s like i’m fidel the way i work these cartels
like kid cudi, i take multiple l’s

[verse 3:lemson]
snorted a whole avocado, now i’m f-ckin’ flyin’
got me sittin’ on the toilet for 2 hours, feel likes i’m f-ckin’ dyin’
got more eyes open than a cyclop orgy
victorious in life, now i just need to f-ck torry
i ghostwritten verses while wearing ghost mittens
on that next level, i don’t need women, i got ghost t-ttehs
ask how many chicks i got and it’s over 9000
ask how many d-cks bbds sucked and it’s over 9000
gettin head from patches o’houlihan on a ski lift
69ing 69 girls, tag teaming with bobby flay and regis

[verse infinity: bosco_the_flacko aka max b]
jamaican with the accent, i got tree eyes
n-gga, all i see is weed, and ya girl’s bee hive
smoking til we fly
hoes hop on my ride
so much f-cking dmt, i can make my dreams high
i don’t know sh-t about deep so thought, f-ck this track
i go deep in ya moms -ss crack
puff, puff, p-ss that
my third eye hidden under these stacks…

f-ck this sh-t, i’m only spitting 9 bars
free max b

[verse 4:dyaz]
uh, respect game or expect flames, this is cl-ssic dyaz, punk
rocking with the homie lemson, we be coming with that furry funk
we have science together, together with ariana and justice
cause you know when we rap about love asphyxiations it’s just us
no one else, cause n0body has what we have, connections
flowing through our body like a b-tterfly with affections
for the beautiful nature that surrounds us, and the world
so go ahead, and fly with us to the mesmerizing flower’s whorl

[verse 5:teebird aka mr:”my third eye actually is dolan”]
boom bap raps coming straight out of my knapsack
got 22 for bustin a .38 out of the 50 cadillac
times was hard, times is hard as a matter of fact
keep my third eye eloping, keep my third leg strokin’
keep my momma’s back broken
i used to pump packs with fours in
elohim dreams that bust straight out of the seam
of the dna that drips from the blood of the regime
now heads busted at the bottom of the guillotine
you’re motherf-ckers are just sheepish
trying to make your wool into goat’s milk
then trying to make goat’s milk into gold spill
my worth is far from from workless
f-ck a b-tch in the armpit i’m slurpin’
if you were to pair up with eye
you are likely to catch cataracts
call me the pastor’s dad, no blasts…

[verse 6:algernon]
i got that third eye, what you lookin at
you’re shooting sideways looks, call that a crooked gat
i got stars and rainbows, the more you know
i’m ultraviolent in ultraviolet k!lling this indigo
my syndicate is stellar launching nuclear mental propellers
to propel your mind to somewhere better than you’ve ever been
loose with the flow like a life kick from a victim
who the noose won’t let go clinging on to the soul
feel the rapture caught up in the commotion of it
meditation gave me a harp and wings to float up above it
singing h-ll yeah, and f-ck em if they’re right
paying homage to the pop hit that burned the last light
of my affinity for divinity i can’t see the new side
just a roll of dirty bills on my last car ride
don’t divide me, you’ll never subdue my conscience
i’m either speaking the truth or a whole lot of nonesense

[verse 6.5:bosco the flacko]

verse 7: [ojsimpson_phd]
b-tches showin’ skin like a zombie apocalypse
when i flip, leave all the compet-tion with slit wrists
her hips, lips meet d-ck. surprised to f-cking fit-
i admit, i tend to p-ss the fifth like a snitch
son, that’s word to mother, leave brothers dead in a gutter
my flows sl1cker than b-tter, for every syllable uttered
i’m adding chips to the clutter. you busy tryna mutter?
did i stutter? i don’t breathe on a track, i f-cking smother
when i spit, it’s a death sentence, like monster aids
contemplate suicide, it serve as ya great escape
heaven’s gate: we glimpse you tryna front in god’s face
best debase these rumours that your flow from outer sp-ce
screaming that you got beef, but i want that cow too
with my 4×2, i leave the minds of men slew
‘nother dime like jew, another line like daily news
i approve of dudes finally accepting that they lose

[verse 8: m’b-lls]
my thurd eye open, whuddup

[verse 9: n-gga berry]
ya know, we all got that third eye
even if its not found yet, dont be a shy guy
referencing mario like its my f-ckin’ job
if you ain’t bout this nigel life suck on my corn cob
also, i just bought a furby
this motherf-cker is yellow like my t-rdies
only sometimes that is, normally its just my p-ss
and i’m not one to diss, just like to sit back and coast
shoutout to jams ‘cause i like it on my toast

[verse rel: silkyjohnson aka supa dupa jesus aka f-ck jams]
me and the jams connect, guess i’m peanut b-tter
whip out a verse in a jiff, peanut b-tter
nah, can’t even hit you with that peanut b-tter
mr. planters chilling on that land of lakes
peanut b-tter top hat, monocle, astronomical
dome, d-ck big enough to make da hubble shake
bubble jakes like kirby in his bubble hat
poppin p-ssies like bubble rap
yo sh-t full of hot air–that bubble rap
you f-cking with the silkiest johnson
leave yo -ssh0l- wider than action bronson
see, sh-t rhymes with bronson, ain’t orange
jams stop rapping, you rhyme as well as orange
slam your head into a door hinge, then watch me and maboo
do what we do, scr-pping like scr-ppy doo
start f-cking a b-tch and beyonce ask “me too?”

- james301

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