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letra de august cunts - nalyd

lately i’ve been feeling like a dunce
all these c-nts

[verse 1]
put these mothaf-ckas in a box and i send em away
put em in a gray ‘llac and pop the trunk
and throw em in the back, jack; ha, dig em a grave
put a brick inside that xerox when i print up a page
moving keys i can relate, cause i live in the cage
i throw up the a, i take em to school, i give them a grade
an eazy-e for effort, that’s wwa
white with an att-tude, alphabet soup is on my plate
all i got is z’s they sleeping on me, i can’t get em awake
i spoon feed em a sound in a room full of deceivers and clowns
who believe in making it rain cause all they see is the clouds
and i watch from the couch of the vip like a potato
with a bunch of meatheads like f-ck it, i’ll just feed ’em a cow
plenty of white boys to pick from this year
but before you pick a pepper, you better pick up your heater
cause even peter piper could pick up a mic but what it’s like
to pick a fight with me is like putting nikes on a cheetah
better speed up, or at least in my case adidas
i’m out this b-tch, drinking c0ke by the two-liter

[verse 2]
i spot a victim, the plot’ll thicken when the clock is ticking
i caught him slipping, i gotta give him a shot
i hit him with proper spitting, hottest writtens and compositions
so compet-tion’s a contradiction somebody mention they got a crooked
highly fiction we probably different, got gotti henchmen
opposition, i’ll body quick as bugatti engines
i’m on a mission to get richer, the sickest lyric-kicker
digging a ditch for different spitters
weak lyricists get disfigured
sip liquor, spit like a sick mixture
of notorious, pun and l, get the big picture
the poster, i’ll roast ya
my mind so deadly it’s just like the beanie is close to a holster
it’s over, control my whole coastal region
like i’m supposed to, flow is going postal even
open season, heart close to freezing
ruthless as eazy n-gga, approach, i’m squeezing believe me
dopest westcoaster breathing so most ya hope i’m vegan
wussat

[verse 3]
ayo, lyrical miracle, spiritual individual, criminal
subliminal, in your swimming pool

you’re about to see peace destroyed, it’ll never be restored
when i unleash these beastly hordes on your cd stores
wanna stop it: you gon’ need a priest, at least three swords
a license to ill from the beastie boys, three ouija boards
a squeegee and please be warned, don’t ask what the squeegee’s for
or the holy water, acid raps that’ll eat these floors
eat a hole in a rhyme book, you see these h-rns
and as for me you ask when i’m gone, will he be mourned
..is puke luke warm, should casey anthony do p-rn
can that chick fit a new born dead baby inside a fricking shoebox
with a shoeh-rn
smothered in chloroform so she can go get her groove on
can she duct tape and velcro a fetus
yeah i might need those adidas actually
nalyd is a god
god spelled backwards is dog
i’m a sick pup
i’d be a horrible magicial cause i’d f-ck that trick up

[verse 4]

it’s only fair to warn, i was born with a set of h-rns
and metaphors attached to my d-mn umbilical cord
warlord of rap that’ll bash you with a 2 by 4 board
and smash into your honda accord with a 4 door ford
but i’m more towards droppin an acappella that’ll chop a fella
to mozzarella, worse than a helicopter propeller
got you locked in the cellar with your skeleton showing
developing anorexia while i’m standing next to ya
eating a full course meal watching you starve to death
with an iv in your veins feeding you liquid darvicet
pumping you full of drugs, pull the plugs
on the gunshot victims full of bullet slugs
who were picked up in an ambulance and driven
to receiving with the -sses ripped out of they pants and given
sh-t
sh-t guys i can’t

august c-nts

ooh scary

- nalyd

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