MC Dave Strider - TX | Текст песни

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• MC Dave Strider
• TX

Dave Strider sucker slapping rap cool kid
Cuddled up with the mic I spew rhymes like slit wrists
That sanguine sleeved grist grabbing grub kicker
Clutch player as well as certified knight of time wizard

Cold as winter wielding bladekind and busting knees
Cinder block breaking, boon raking, strife swag steez
Dress to kill, ace suit, I make it hard to breath
Karkat go ahead and tell these motherfuckers please

Piss pouring punk with some sword skills to sell.
Settle bets with this fire I used to make these iron meld.
Melt your face with medley, I can see you're unprepared.
Unparalleled Derse prophet reciting scriptures doesn't help.

Finger cutting underclassman with a solid reputation
Regulate a blog, follow count a nation
Master with the bait, set in the hotel walls
Where in smuppet fucking socket nightmare's are drawn

[Chorus]
And know I'm D-A-V-E Strider
Put your hands up and turn the fucking bass higher
Hefty bunch of session players plated with armor
I turn the volume up and panties drop to the ground for the starters
Yo Rose, go ahead tell these suckers
They better know I am no mother fucker
And don't talk about state when in you my zone
More swag then twenty dead dave's in a catacomb

[Part 2]
Cluster fuck of past me's dropping as the seconds pass
Peddle pretty penny's for your treasure but I take stacks

I spew suns searing right into your eyes
But my shades see no fade, my whole persona personified
Got a naknaknak for getting in trouble
Me and Jade turn around to make cities from rubble

Yo born to burst your bubble, I can tell your rhymes are brittle
Bone bending battle antics are the end to your adventure
Running rascals right into the clutches of my bladekind
I may not be a hero but you better keep in mind that

[Chorus]
I'm D-A-V-E Strider
Put your hands up and turn the fucking bass higher
Hefty bunch of session players plated with armor
I turn the volume up and panties drop to the ground for the starters
Yo Rose, you better go ahead tell these suckers
They better know I'm no mother fucker
And don't talk about state when in you my zone
More swag then twenty dead dave's in a catacomb

[Part 3]
Strider shades stay on point like some swords
Plastic wrapped butter knives stashed in hoards
I watch the throne of Texas like a fucking raplord
And having lamborghini mercy on those I scorch

Godhead dreads no rapper
You see I wrap 'em in dynamite, you can try to 'em after
But if you dabble in affairs and get your ass lit up from flares
I only care for three things, my Witch, Seer and Heir

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