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letra de (rhinestone cowboy freestyle) - tom (emcee from australia)

he raps like lighting a cigarette [?]
gas light the [?] the sinners debts to be paid off by dinner time
he fiddle with time because it isn’t sitting right
we told the internet to get it right, they’re in the right
zap microphones
he raps right at home
sat by the phone
can i have a clap please?
use madlib beats, get attacked at ease
forget about the bees, he raps like thе cats’ needs
the way the words let just right
from much hеight, they’ll make it
yours are shaky as a bus ride
the way a cut kite falls, some might crawl
from the sun [?] call
might we all find god, he sings
‘cause the clock’s getting bad and he spit it
with more swing than a sock with some batteries in it
d-mn is he gifted
and you wonder why he spits so tragedy stricken
‘cause the land is a wicked place
so he never ran at a different pace
slam in a [?]
handshake, better sip it slow, better have brakes
mandate plans made for pete’s sake
please pray he’ll get more pennies than a cheesecake factory
yuck, these taste rancid
please take back them and bring some better rappers
you think you’re that because you said it faster, uh
faster i mean
pardon my screams to harken my dreams to [?] my sleeves
we love to fight in peace
who’s to say we have it all?
shoot my favorite cannonball
i lose today, still standing tall
might slow down, boy
much like david hasselhoff, he’s a rhinestone cowboy
(-pause-)
he raps for god and jesus only
fall between the seat the leaders showed me
all might need a [?] to see below me
proceed to believe this evening’s trophy
and they can hide behind the flash like adobe
until they lose their superpower like sony
god, [?] me right and send me a pen
screaming, “tom, hold me tight and let me relent”
so then we can guess when they send me to death that the stress leaves a dent in the best leading men
lest we forget, less than a century is left
don’t tempt me to bet
but he raps for the [?] and the hopes that he touches one or two souls at least
and to hold his beliefs that he shows to the beat
he’ll be sober and clean ’til he’s old and deceased
and he floats above beneath
he opens up his t–th of holy lungs could breathe and hopes to stun the least
you heard it on the internet, decide to show it to your pals in the hopes they might like it
huh, hands hurting from the mic grip
stand st-rdy but my mind stem
with a pumped chest, get upset and might flip the table
woke up dead, a coffin and they might hit the nail
he’s onto something specific
the ass-kicking adrenaline once the numbers are lifted
and with his father yelling, he sent his mother ballistic
rhinestone cowboy

- tom emcee from australia

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