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letra de silly sucka sap rap (ft. celsius 7) - windmills

[verse 1: framework]
whether dressed like king tut on my own stuff
or wearing some gold fronts while i smoke blunts
we haven’t ever fallen off and we won’t budge
things are getting out of hand, yet we’re so clutch
if your arrogant, embarr-ssment, we’ll handle it
like pistol pete maravich
too many games and you’re tired and spent. it’s intense
fighting over the size of the bench, huh?
and rap’s full of a lot of scare tactics
that others pump up as if they’re an air mattress
i wanna see how far their tongue can reach
outside their mouth while i upper cut their teeth!
but, the pee-wee league of emceeing on cd
is sneaky as ads that repeat on the tv
and these two rhyme-writers don’t get excited
by keeping the crowd quiet as if it was laryngitis
we’ve elevated and risen, more complicated, ambitious
yet, what a healthy opinion they’re dishing, looking delicious

[chorus:]
silly suck sap rap! i’m not having it!

[verse 2: celsius 7]
okay, far from your average, abbot or savage
crushin’ these beats like galactus on planets
pushin’ towards a better dream, leaked a bit of kerosene
runnin’ down a hole that’s more twistier than ketamine
let em lean… as i grasp that ivory
tusk and i rush through the brush at high speeds
flashin’ a flush that ‘gon free yer 5 gs
and leavin’ yuh busted and cryin’ “why me?”
devil in the details, duty to the dollaz
daggers to my diaphragm if i don a collar
envision tame impalas in the sands of guatemala
cuties cuttin’ crops i’ll be coolin’ like a comma

[chorus:]
silly suck sap rap! i’m not having it!

[verse 3: framework & celsius 7]
i’m consciously beyond the scene. my thoughts and dreams
have taught me things of wants and needs
and you best believe that we got the recipe
how to increase the speed of every breath you breathe
with ease. as we crush the beat, it’s such relief
as much as we have had enough, we keep on doing us. you see there’s more people we’d love to reach
north, south to the west and east. let’s meet
you wanna dance on ours graves as you wave
down into the earth while this songs being played?
we’re saying, you’re f-cking with the wrong guys
who just won’t die, who haven’t heard a dope rhyme
in a long time
okay, 3,2,1 comin’ next on the blast off!
attach a golden mic to where he’s breakin’ his cast off
and fit him for some skinny jeans, he’s rappin’ his -ss off
these rappers are jack offs
they finished and mad soft
yer gold teeth are grody, quit tryin’ to be goldy
the flows that you spit, they was moldy as goat cheese
you flossin’ but broke, b
a lyricist wrote these
it really ain’t hard, i’m pourin’ old e on cochise
do yer homework, b-mp some lord finesse
get off the molly yuh muppet, how yuh rep is grotesque
cuz where we from, to the bang of the drum we bring change
with bats, beats and brains we came to break chains

[chorus:]
silly suck sap rap! i’m not having it!

- windmills

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