Deuce (Hollywood Undead) - Help Me | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Deuce (Hollywood Undead)
• Help Me

Help me, Help me, Help me, Help me
Help me, Help me, Help me, Help me

Chorus:
Help me, I ain’t got no brains.
Help me, I ain’t can’t feel no pain.
Help me, I can’t stand the rain.
Help me ‘fore I drift away.

I’m the George Bush of this rap shit.
You can tell Randy Jackson to kiss my black ass.
I’m the white Obama bitch, you can judge this,
while I flip my middle finger off and let one out quick.
I’m sick of these people tryin’ a tell me what I got,
like its Down syndrome, it makes me wanna load a clip
and put a round in them, make in drown in with,
these other rap stars who are clowns it’s sick,
like Monica Lewinsky suckin’ on a six inch tooth pick,
bitch just got her boobs did, so she can do it, do it,
and make a new clip ‘till these kids download it,
and you say I’m profound, shit, I ain’t goin’ down
with my hand on my dick,
while the next World Trade Center blows up quick.
Hold up, I think you need another doughnut Mr. Officer.
Everybody go nuts.

Chorus:

Look what I’ve become, this place that I begun,
I started as The One and still don’t give a fuck.
These bitches get no love, no more grenade or dove,
you’re 30 rappin’? ewuh, and still aint’ got a buzz.
You can dream, you can dream but you’re gonna suck,
I got the voice and the looks baby turn it up,
I don’t need MTV when I sell this much,
I’d rather be on Carson Daily than Oprah son.
I’m a be better than them, I’m a veteran kid,
I came to get these kids off of medicine binges.
Who’s better than him? Not Ollirum that bitch.
I told you once and I’m a tell you again.
At least fight back pussy gimme a challenge,
I’m the boss motha’ fucker, you don’t want no static.
B, O, S, S, Deuce is back bitch, yo Truth, pass the automatic.

Chorus

(Yee) These labels wanna put me away for good,
they wanna keep me in the hood,
but I keep swingin’ right back like you know I should,
makin’ history in the books.
You suck, theres no buts,
the whole music industry can lick my nuts.
Motha fucker I ain’t got no love for a fake-ass,
wanna be Donald Trump.

Chorus

Uh hu, uh hu, hahaaw yeah, I ain’t even gotta fuckin’ try.
You know why? cause I sound good whenever I talk,
whenever I spit, whenever I sing bitch. I’m the fuckin’ white Obama bitch.
Yeeah, aye Yuma lets get the fuck out’a here.

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