Текст песни
Lock bring the drama. Uh. New Wave machine. Yeah. Uh. The team. The closest. Call out. Call out. Thorough tracks. Yeah. In your area. Sound the alarm. Yeah, yeah. Ayo, back to that boom bap rap, Smack the shit out cats. Kick a dog in the ribs and put him Out back. Dropping in from the wilderness, I put my spin on shit. I spit on my dick and push it way Up in your bitch. Fuck you and that lady That birthed you. I earth you before I make It back on my curfew. You soft like a Nerf dope, make me wanna Puke. Broccoli cheddar soup all over your suede Boots. I'm flying the coke with a suspended license. Fuck rap, hip hop's back, that's why I'm writing. Fuck your review, shit on your magazine. Yeah. Piss on your blog, it ain't burners that You team. Uh. All I need is money. Give me money. I don't got shit, so you can't take shit From me. I walk on a tightrope drinking a Fifth of whiskey, tipsy. Let off mad shots, but you miss me. All I need is money. Give me money. I don't got shit, so you can't take shit From me. All I need is money. Give me money. Smack the shit out you if you start to Act funny. These the last days. It's yours. These the last days. It's yours. These the last... These the last... These the last days. It's yours. No time for the nickel and dime, The time invested. Rips touching, salivating, Pockets anorexic. Hungry, cannibalistic like Jeff Dahmer. Pop strong protector, I travel with breast armor. The llama like to dally from New York to Cali. I move with the peace, don't meet the Jedi in the alley. We in the last days, the mad spread the Kind of ways 'cause everybody wanna eat, we going Through a phase. I blaze like Johnny on any Track you find me. Never focus culture, Circle my orb with alumni. Amongst the higher fire, bracing hungry, impatient. Pick a new location, leave seeds for wolf nation. Best of both worlds, I blend the Black with The white. The yin and yang architect providing for His appetite. You brittle MCs like terracotta Soldiers. You could be the opener, I'm dealing with The closers. All I need is money. Give me money. I don't got shit, so you can't take shit From me. All I need is money. Give me money. Smack the shit out you if you start to Act funny. These the last days. It's These the last days. It's yours. These the last... These the last... These the last days. It's yours. The most officialist. I'm the foulest in the truest form. Above the norm and way beyond the swarm. Yo, I bomb beats, competition get stomped clean. Timbs to the face, pool of blood on the Concrete. Yeah. The champ is back, I swim where The sharks be. John Rambo armed with a Sharpie. It's hardly an effort for me to spark heat. Start beef with me, I snatch the kids out Your car seat. Oh It's mandatory I murder shit In the laboratory. No category could label my foulest story. Uh-uh. Purple heart, five stars and all that. Commander in chief or whatever you call that. Yeah. It's Skullcracks with a couple of ball bats. Carjack more rats dressed in all black. The closers, all hail the fall back. These the last days, birds get your crumbs snatched, What? All I need is money. Give me money. I don't got shit, so you can't take shit From me. All I need is money. Give me money. Smack the shit out you if you start to Act funny. These the last days. It's yours. These the last days. It's yours. These the last... These the last... These the last days. It's yours.
The Closers, ThoroTracks, Shabaam Sahdeeq, Red Eye, Krumb Snatcha — The Foulest
«The Foulest» — The Closers, ThoroTracks, Shabaam Sahdeeq, Red Eye, Krumb Snatcha. Читайте текст песни и подпевайте с караоке-подсветкой: строки текста подсвечиваются в такт музыке. Слушайте онлайн бесплатно или скачайте mp3. Длительность записи — 3:48. Жанр — Рэп и хип-хоп.
