| Cold sagging like I’m stuck in a ditch
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| Troll rap, I wrote this verse under the bridge
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| Only god knows if I got a couple of kids
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| But ‘god' is ‘dog' backwards and I ain’t trusting a bitch
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| I ain’t a pimp but my shin splints
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| Gimme pimp limps
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| Sniff sniff, I always stay with Snowy, like Tin Tin
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| 61−6 kid, stuck in the sin bin
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| Father all these rappers, call ‘em sonny, like Liston
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| On a Vallie mission, six Xannies in him
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| He’s a bad influence
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| Get your kids to quit hanging with him
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| Sick man winging off a six pack of Guinness
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| Slick mannerism, taking selfies mid-aneurysm
|
| You think this is ignorant?
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| I am on some crack
|
| This is heart-felt philosophical conscious rap
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| I went for a run but had to stop to nap
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| But the only problem with that is I’m an insomniac (so I didn’t)
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| My spirit animal is a zebracorn
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| Step aboard, but rest assured
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| You’ll never get to shore
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| I’m drinking dirty sprite in a Pepsi Porsche
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| With Lou Banga, bet cracker teeth look better than yours
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| My name’s Milk, check the «best before…»
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| I like my sauce with some extra sauce and some more
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| I’m in the Webster Hall
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| It’s rare I’m out in public
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| Ellesse shorts and a Ralphy bucket
|
| Demi Moore gave me a semi this morning
|
| I’ll write the greatest record but never record it
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| I’m sick, incredibly nauseous
|
| But I’ll never actually die like Kenny McCormick
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E
|
| I’m on top like I plan to get collared
|
| Apocalypse later, if I can be bothered
|
| I’ll take whatever shrapnel when I’m offered
|
| I was gonna walk and took a vallie and hovered
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| I’m not resting in bread
|
| You can rest when you’re dead
|
| Flicked you a crumb and kept the rest of the bread
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| And took your pennies and fled
|
| I’m just a dick with a torso, some arms, legs and a head
|
| Bitch, silence is golden
|
| So shut the fuck up and let me get rich
|
| Ate the duck and coughed the feathers up
|
| Ate some shrooms and then I leveled up
|
| I whisper sweet nothings in the shrubbery
|
| Convinced that we can whirl away some money tree
|
| Cause life is but a daydream
|
| I’ve been stuck in the same mind state since, like, 8
|
| It’s got me irate
|
| Me, myself and I are the only motherfuckers that I rate
|
| I’m the boss, bitch, on your knees
|
| Be a doll and then kiss me koala-skin Wallabees
|
| While I neck a three-litre
|
| Show me the money, fuck a free feature
|
| My other spirit animal is some undiscovered sea creature
|
| 61−6 spread the word like a street preacher
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E
|
| Yo, I set your hair alight and asked you «can you spare a light?»
|
| Clever clogs, I’m never wrong but I’m rarely right
|
| Stayed up for three days then got an early night
|
| Me and Milkavelli in the cut, that’s a scary sight
|
| Watching the best of Bernie Mack burning white
|
| Certified benzo boy in the German ride
|
| Got a pretty girly with the pearly eyes
|
| But for me she keep it dirty like curly fries
|
| With a Rustlers burger side with some turkey slides
|
| That’s disgusting
|
| Yeah, Gherkin-like
|
| Keep it dumb like a nursery rhyme
|
| Committed the perfect crime but never served the time (buss case!)
|
| My spirit animal is a dodo
|
| Sat in a hammock, puffing some home-grown (Jamaican shit)
|
| Dab of the wax and I’m in the ozone
|
| You some faggots, you live in Soho
|
| Disagree, I’ll be jacking you for your polo
|
| You think you’re men, then I’m jacking you for your polos
|
| Feeling like I’m trapped in a snow globe
|
| White boy, she in love with the coco
|
| Keep it ride or die in the passenger’s side
|
| When I walk, I don’t walk past you, I glide
|
| Filling up the whip while flashing a light
|
| I survived but everyone else happened to die
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E
|
| It’s 61 3+3 in the V.I.P. |
| till we D.I.E
|
| We motherfucking flee times free in the V.I.P till we D.I.E |