Artist : DOMO GENESIS
Album : No Idols
[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
Fuck it two tears in a bucket
Cause these fuckers could never touch us
In the midst of the calm we bringin' ruckus
Bitches nothing, end of discussion
I will be double clutching, leave a chunk
Looking slump, give a punk a fucking concussion
Why you frontin' speakin' nothin' like a bad preacher
Rollin' mad tree while you camping over your last reefer
Catch me backseat, he know, declining your rap features
Keep your beat and get your track ethered
Nigga careful what you rappin' for
I'm gunnin' at these rappers throats
I'm spittin' raw, I'mma kill'em all but I be laughin' though
Ashin' in a champagne glass cause I'm irrational
I'm showing ass, shorty's gettin' gassed at all the cash I blow
Again I'm passin' go laugh in a time of fashion
This rapper shit is my passion, no actin' I make it happen
Look back at your wack reaction
Give me racks, 'bout to cash' em
The stacks, you can't imagine
Spark it a flash passin'
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
I am the coldest speakin', you are a ho that's decent
Lookin' to hold and squeeze, and I'm schemin' on dome and peacin'
Back to the olive garden, breaded like Paul McCartney
Beatle, and every time you see him know the armor sparkly
GNAW dog, he barking potty mouth, it's probably cotton
Closet full of army fatigue buckets and dirty Kostons
Flirtin' with the blunt before I lick it
She fillin' out her curves and she can serve as an apprentice
Rollin' blunts, rollin' sleeves when I dirty up the ditches
And never servin' dick the week she finishes her sentence
Nigga, bet that rhetoric offensive like I'm
Yelling, never timid; this the Frigidaire freezer shit
Feel the glare heating shit, Golf Wang leader pit
Burn trees: cedars, piss off, flipped cross
Put the three in six, tight as skin when the needle prick
O-F, never present tense, eat a dick, bitch
Album : No Idols
[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
Fuck it two tears in a bucket
Cause these fuckers could never touch us
In the midst of the calm we bringin' ruckus
Bitches nothing, end of discussion
I will be double clutching, leave a chunk
Looking slump, give a punk a fucking concussion
Why you frontin' speakin' nothin' like a bad preacher
Rollin' mad tree while you camping over your last reefer
Catch me backseat, he know, declining your rap features
Keep your beat and get your track ethered
Nigga careful what you rappin' for
I'm gunnin' at these rappers throats
I'm spittin' raw, I'mma kill'em all but I be laughin' though
Ashin' in a champagne glass cause I'm irrational
I'm showing ass, shorty's gettin' gassed at all the cash I blow
Again I'm passin' go laugh in a time of fashion
This rapper shit is my passion, no actin' I make it happen
Look back at your wack reaction
Give me racks, 'bout to cash' em
The stacks, you can't imagine
Spark it a flash passin'
[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
I am the coldest speakin', you are a ho that's decent
Lookin' to hold and squeeze, and I'm schemin' on dome and peacin'
Back to the olive garden, breaded like Paul McCartney
Beatle, and every time you see him know the armor sparkly
GNAW dog, he barking potty mouth, it's probably cotton
Closet full of army fatigue buckets and dirty Kostons
Flirtin' with the blunt before I lick it
She fillin' out her curves and she can serve as an apprentice
Rollin' blunts, rollin' sleeves when I dirty up the ditches
And never servin' dick the week she finishes her sentence
Nigga, bet that rhetoric offensive like I'm
Yelling, never timid; this the Frigidaire freezer shit
Feel the glare heating shit, Golf Wang leader pit
Burn trees: cedars, piss off, flipped cross
Put the three in six, tight as skin when the needle prick
O-F, never present tense, eat a dick, bitch
0 comments:
Post a Comment