letras.top
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de giants - lodeck

Loading...

[jak tripper]

i’m crispin glover with rodents hung in his sp-ce bag
remember i’m theodore bundy leaning on that rape van
getting numbers in a fake cast
selling k!ller buzzes to the teenage wasteland
veins clasp, serial numbers losing their weight cl-ss
it’s just a scene, we’re all spinning machines and drug dreams by maytag
we write burden rum journals of the modern insane man
our rotted fallopian typewriters feed perversion and bang flags
strange gangland, my rebel’s indian parliaments playing hangman
beige grants, we fire barrels like the homeless under bridges out in graceland
eight cyborg like 8 man or eighth man
j23 lives on a fishing vessel off a burning mainland
rigging algae for the bait cast
rich rappers stay g-ssed
sick rappers stay mad

[hook – lodeck]

i k!ll them all with this
they come and go endless
infuse my all in this
can’t deny my inventiveness
oh sh-t, so sick, so sick, oh sh-t

[lodeck]

step into this, what you call business
convict kindergarten
infrequent mic visits daring me to handle this
holy scam like evangelist
c-m-verting 72 virgins
such a terrorist, please no cameras
i wrote this misquoted paragraph when telegrams were still buzzing
getting head and belvedere, my c-ck playing stunt husband
i held it in til i thought evelyn lin
add another sin
the phantom chimes in, ominous organ notes i shine like j.p. morgan’s vaults
amongst the dull and comatose
still kicking, blowing powder off wigs
i blow minds like lincoln
free thinking, free range chicken breast l!cking
sh-t’s complex like repressed strippers
i splash the money shot and write advice for the little tippers
transform the g-spot under a sycamore
do you remember
f-ck a thrift shop, i’ll spend my last 20 at a liquor store
then wake up groggy in a new bugatti
tapping on some politician’s wh0r-
dude i’m so illuminati
lifting the curtain to a devil’s orgy
i’m sure pic-sso saw the exact same
knee deep in slime, can you make out my name
b-tches make out at this party rocking beliebers to the door of death
your battery’s spent, go next
i p-ss like ervin
f-ck your head up worse than jordan in a laker jersey
i’m rarely heard like secret service thru the walkie-talkie
when it all hits, intense bliss
asking who the f-ck is this
during your very first kiss, inventiveness

[hook]

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...