mf doom - one beer | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• mf doom
• one beer

I get no kick from champagne
mere alcohol doesn't... thrill me at all
so tell me why shouldn't it be true
I get a kick outta brew...

There's only one beer left
rappers screaming all in our ears like we're deaf
tempt me, do a number on a label
eat up all they emcee's, and drink 'em under the table
like...its on me, put it on my tab kid
how ever you get there, foot it, cab it, iron horse it
you leavin' on your face, forfeit
floss the mic, hold it like the heat, he might toss it
told em tell them they stole it
he told her he lost it
she told him get off it, and a buncha other more shit
gettin money, DT's be gettin no new leads
it's like he eatin watermelon, stay spittin new seeds
it's the weed, gimme some of what he droopin off
soon as he wake up, chokin like it was whoopin cough
they group been soft
first hour after open bar and they troopin off
he went to go laugh and get some head by the side road
she asked him autograph her derrier, read: too wide load
this yard bird taste like fried toad turd
Love Villain, take pride in code words
crooked eye, mold nerd geek with a cold heart
probably still be speakin in rhymes as an old fart
study how to eat to die by the pizza guy
no he's not too fly to skeet... in a skeezer eye
and squeeze her thigh, maybe give her curves a feel
the same way she feel it when he flow with nerves of steel
they call the super when they back...uh, plumbing fix
how is only one left? the pack come in 6!
what ever happened to 2 and 3?
a herb tried to slide with 4 and 5 and got caught like, 'what you doin' G?'
don't make him have to get cuttin like truancy
matter fact, not for nuttin, right now, you and me
looser than a pair of adidas
I hope you brought your spare tweeters
emcees sound like cheerleaders
rappin and dancin like Redhead Kingpin
DOOM came to do the thing again, no matter who be blingin
he do it for the smelly hubbies
seeds know what time it is like its time for telly tubbies
few could do it, even fewer could sell it
take it from the dude who wear a mask like a tarded helmet
he plot shows like robberies
in and out, 1-2-3, no bodies please
run the cash, and you won't get a wet sweat shirt
the mic is the shotty, nobody move, nobody get hurt
bring heat like the boy done gon' to war
he came in the door, and everybody on the floor
a whole string of jobs like we on tour, e'ry night
on the score, comin to your corner store