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letra de drunken master - mickey diamond

[intro]
i’ma—, uh—, oh—, i’ma tell you just like this
i’ma—, oh—, i’ma tell you just like this
i might—, i’m drunk, yeah, i been drankin’
but i wasn’t drivin’
the motherf-cking officer, he saw a motherf-cking—
jumped in my lap, and i told ’em to get off
and she got off, and he stopped me (sir?)
i’m—, got in the car, ayy, i don’t wanna hear that sh-t
ayy, i don’t even wan—, i don’t even wan hear
ayy (sir?), when we ought to do, you do the motherf-cking sh-t
the motherf-cker, ayy (mister turner), he must—
ayy, she must be gettin’ him some p-ssy or somethin’ (mister turner)
i don’t even wanna hear that sh-t, ayy (diamonds)
(mister turner), where? where? where?
are you going to do the phsysical-performance test?
yo

[verse 1]
my heart frozen like elsa, flamethrower by the belt, this sh-t’ll melt ya
twelve vs parked outside at the shelter, helter-skelter
walter-white rappers can not spar with the bar-god
big green like shrek, your money shorter than farquaad (hah!)
gave a fiend a test to bless her, she started to nod off
god’s son with the tec on the dresser (boom!)
elon musk with the tesla, electric (urr)
pulled the wine before i signed off, you know i’m a-sceptic (you know me, dawg)
n-ggas’ albums tankin’ like septic, on stage in st. louis entertainin’ like cedric (hahaha)
i was a good kid raised in a mad city like kendrick
what? expensive taste buds
prada-shoe thugs, perform and take drugs
foul sh-t, we make the money, nah, n-gga, money ain’t make us (not at all)
the blade get your face cut, my barrel stay smokin’ like jamaicans (brrt)
blood oath, and i vow to never break it (wha-taa!)
drunken master with the flow, sendin’ sinners straight to satan when i—
[interlude 1]
i’ma—, oh—, i’ma tell you just like this (hahahaha)
i might—, i’m drunk (bring me back, my n-gga)
yo

[verse 2]
my b-tch gettin’ overzealous (yeah), i’m on the road
she tryna roll before they roll the credits
my life is like a movie role, i can’t control the edits
knowin’ my haters’ll hate the hole like jerome bettis
the word “love” is only four letters
sportin’ vietnam-vintage-war leathers
hand-knit ralph lauren horse sweaters
we done with the trends, we all setters
make a k!llin’ if allah let us
who wanna bet us? i brung leathers and umbrellas (diamonds)
sing in the rain like donald o’connor, dollar for dollar (brr)

gas in my blunt strong enough to lift a tank up
south-beach lebron, i’m smart enough to take a paycut
tequila on the wake up (wake up!), country-fried steak
i’ma die great, speakers vibrate, pupils dilate
it’s yo’ world, you can die early, you can die late (yeah)
your future’s in the barrel, don’t let my ruger decide fate (boom!)
i slide through the tri-state (urr!), eatin’ pastelillos off the hot plate (huh?)
diamond dallas pag-in’ when the shots bang
smokin’ octane, west coast, i got the ‘pac strain
came through my town for broken needles and popped veins
sl!ck like pretty ricky fontaine
drawn like a moth to a hot flame, ballin’, he got game
shuttlesworth when the shots fallin’, he got aim
did ’em live on ig, fled before the cops came (brr)
f-ck it, let me floss then
[interlude 2 ]
my physical performance is this (wanted just ask you to—)
i do the physical-performance test, but like i said
i was drankin’, but i wasn’t motherf-ckin’ drivin’ (it’s the umbrella, b-tch)
yo

[chorus]
f-ck it, let me floss then (huh?), the big bossman
steve austin, put the nina to a off-brand (boom!)
squeeze off ten, speed off in a small benz (urr!)
blame you, your dog ran (brr)
what the f-ck?

[outro]
and you see—, ayy, you came up here and see why—, ayy (mister turner)
(yo)
let’s do the physical-performance test for you (it’s 5 o’clock somewhere)
’cause we’ll speak together (alright)
toes together, sir, both those, let’s go, both toes
arms to your side, head tilted back, and eyes closed, i tell you when (yeah)
close your eyes, please, keep them closed (yeah)
put your feet together, please (yeah)
arms shoulder height
extend your index fingers only, well, sir
put your head back, and close your eyes
you glad you asked
sir, i’m not doing the test (well, ayy)
girl, you closed your motherf-cking eyes (wake up!)

- mickey diamond

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