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letra de sold my kidney - papa rumpleforeskin

swirl through the air i can tell i’m on venus (yah)
predictable rhyming my next word is p-n-s (wha)
can’t follow my moves i’m not fond of your keenness
from the same fruit but are not the same genus (b-tch)

dabbin’ my ye and you hittin’ a giddyup
pathetic as f-ck you still drinkin’ a sippycup
remix my sh-t before fame as a backup
dustin’ my books and then read, thats a brush up (oh yeah….oh yeah)

b-tch……..b-tch….b-tch….b-tch….f-ck

smokin’ with my probation officer….here you go officer….hehehe

dabbin’ my ye and you hittin’ a giddyup
pathetic as f-ck you still drinkin’ a sippycup
remix my sh-t before fame as a backup
dustin’ my books and then read, thats a brush up (yah)

hittin’ my dab like whooo whooo whooo whooo whooo whooo (hahahahaha)
cross-eye you looking at me like a fool fool fool fool fool (bow bow bow bow)
boy i cannot seem to bool (seem to bool) the gazzo be slumpin’ and drainin’ my fuel
i cannot tell what you want (what you want) so droopy your eyes got you lookin’ like ghoul

i do not f-ck with the sl-ts (yuh) eat pb&j for my lunch (lunch)
i keep my head down, pay them no attention, they hittin’ me up and then askin’ for mentions (f-ck….off)
don’t be confusing the way that i roll that is reserved for my weed and my bowls
lemme pull up on an instagram poll “is he a b-tch thats a yes or a no!”

come on in and hold your ear b-tch cause i gotta tell you something
last night in afghan got lit (huh) so i did a lil somethin’ (oh what)
boofin’ up alcohol and then across acres (what) i saw a little kiddy
turns out it was a girl named sydney….and she just took my kidney (give it back you stupid sl-t)

dabbin’ my ye and you hittin’ a giddyup
pathetic as f-ck you still drinkin’ a sippycup
remix my sh-t before fame as a backup
dustin’ my books and then read, thats a brush up (yah)

‘94 civic is bustlin’ and hustlin’ but in the trunk we gon sip robitussin (ye ye)
24 litres thats not the gas tank, sippin’ so much throw me in a concussion
holes in my brain look like .38 bullets (bow bow) now that is destruction (buh)
when she pull down her pants, you pull out her socks for her toes, ain’t that disgusting (gah)

when i’m doing numerics, i count one by one, thats the same move when i shoot like lebron (pew)
7’4 when i stand on this cashhhhh, look down on you make you feel like a prawn (b-tch)
crackin’ my knuckles inside of your skull, walk it all off with a pitiful yawn
so your face be showin’ a new crimson red (so what) we gon make it a crayon
(yuh……..b-tch….b-tch….bow bow….bow bow bow bow bow….slatt slatt….is it over yet….huh….huh?)

- papa rumpleforeskin

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