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 the bottom feeder - sketch the bottom feeder

yo this is your least favorite rappers least favorite rapper
and if you’re listening to this
i want you to do me one favor
and just shut the f-ck up!

’cause if you talk when i play my jam, i’ll leave you cold and stinking
it’s like if abraham popped some ecstasy and rolled in lincoln
driving slow ’cause it’s stolen
drinking whisky straight
making money under the table like a hooker on a frisky date
i’ll chug a 40 and stumble into church, grab the mic and start preaching the gospel
mumbling the words till i’m so drunk i’m losing my balance
i’ll shoot you in the eye with a 45 call it houston to dallas
this f-ggot said i couldn’t rap so i beat him with a wooden bat
at least he said i was good at that
there’s no debating, when i’m 80
i’ll be locked in cuffs
i treat my pistol like a lady
i give it a c-ck and bust
i’m either coughing up blood or chiefing a rillo
i hit the tree so hard i’m crying, i’m climbing a weeping willow
if you happen to have a swisher or a philly on ya
i’ll buy the weed if you supply the sweets like w-lly wonka

i’m sneaky
i creep in the shadows
and i’m freaky
i sleep with the fat hoes
i’m lying when i say i’m keeping a gat close
i’m the bottom feeder
don’t do it
(x2)

my landlord stays starting beef
i became a man wh-r- to pay for my apartment lease
take a sh-t on every cop car parked in streets
i’m a sick f-ck
i love b-tches that fart and queef
at night i’m seeing red while in dead silence
in my head, violent images are playing
i’m laying in bed smiling
my advice is to chill
the higher i’m getting, the fire i’m spitting is melting the ice on my grill
i’m nice and i’m ill
rappers are byson i’m bill
i’m slitting throats, when they bleed out
i’m slicing ’em still
like i had a license to k!ll
acting wild i’ll crack your smile
i’ll put a black and mild out on your wife’s face and smack your child
there’s carc-sses stacked in piles in my room
it smells like a tomb
i tried spraying perfume
but it stinks so bad i’m ’bout to bury them in my front yard
for now to cover up the smell i hit the blunt hard

(hook)

i roll blunts, burn them and p-ss, turn ’em to ash
fall asleep and have dreams of earning some cash
when i wake i get baked
i stay burning papers
my ash tray had so many roaches i called an exterminator
i’m a drunk with no ends chugging cooking wine
i turn my back on my friends like i got a crooked spine
until i’m old and withery, i’ll be bringing it with cold delivery
like the pizza man took his time
i damage crews after slamming brews
you think i can’t battle drunk
then step to graham and lose
it’s too late to back out punk
jamming tunes when i black out drunk
if i’m not, shortly i will be
immortally ill, eternally dope
sick with it
find me in the emergency room
with an iv in my vein pumping taaka vodka
what color is it?
clear!
grab the defibrillator and shock the doctor

(hook)

- sketch the bottom feeder

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS