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letra de rats maze - slaine

(intro)
if it’s one thing i hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes
can’t stop , won’t stop, d-mn

(verse 1)
up in front the dollar store stood the wh-r-
she’s up to no good before
walk into your crib high heels h-tting the wooden floor
sky across her abdomen, brown eyes sh-tty face
cold so cold amongst the projects , city scapes
a fat man is f-cking her his pop belly hangs
he wheezes when he breathes
jesus she got fangs
she’s stranger than a stranger, she’s dangerous
she played atari while old man smoked angel dust
back as kids hanging on the bench of cracking bearing
her boyfriend so crack he’s back to rack and tearing
she dropped out in the 10th grade but the sack a smack
and after that got kicked around like a hackey sack
sh-t is a cold world for a girl
she never had a conscious she only had abortions
beggars can’t be choosers
you eat sh-t in rationed portions
this is a story about a b-tch back in boston

(scratch hook)
if it’s one thing i hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes
can’t stop , won’t stop, d-mn
boston’s a good place to meet bad people
i can’t even explain that
the dangerous, the ruggedness
depressin’, pathetic
can’t stop , won’t stop, d-mn
boston’s a good place to…bad people

(verse 2)
little man’s broke, plus his mom struggle with cold pops
an og that oded last screams made his veins freeze
on the southern smoked over chilling in his shoulder
scr-w-ng in his lap he cooked his smack , gave us all a slap
from the greatest cr-p he died from a fatal zap
besides that , his nesses is smoking rest
far from blast , rising questions
for the one’s who’ll die next
starring at the pie racks
up in the projects watching his mom scrip the lighter
the pipe even tighter, she took a toke
filled her lungs with smoke
held until she chocked, and blew a cloud from her throat and spoke
like this is the cope reason to cope and pour a c note
i purchase 5 20’s with the money rip the plastic bag
placed a rock on the gl-ss, and yelled the second gl-ss is strong
drag the churk and rob the ash
cough like an old hag like little man paces the bad
praying for paces with the paces in boston m-ss

(verse 3)
ayo, purp smoke blowing in her hair now she going hard
door knockers on the air swimming slobbin oggs
live on her knees but worship ain’t the purpose
she giving hat service, slurping n-gg-s for purses
open the closed curtains, she f-cking everyday y’all
clubbing every night different players on the radar
sm-th-r around the way y’all day long no stopping
mels in and out the box she the post office
no dark physiques b-tch pop and burnin
fry a n-gg- wig malcom x with his permin
vermin, all in the apartment squirming
dirty laundry, pow dishes no detergent
words she done play a few, snooze and she ‘ll take your dough
canari type for a wife can’t mistake the hoe
got a couple n-gg- hit, round she don’t give a sh-t
nothing new same old script just a different beat

- slaine

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