Rob Kelly - Dropkicked (ft. Slaine) | Текст песни

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• Rob Kelly
• Dropkicked (ft. Slaine)

[Excerpt from Rocky 3]

Mr. T – Why don’t you tell these nice folks why you been ducking me? Politics, man. This country wants to keep me down; keep everybody weak. They don’t want a man like me to have the title because I’m not a puppet like that fool up there!

[Verse 1: Rob Kelly]

Who wanna come take a swing at the king of the ring?
Barroom brawler leave your fucking arm in a sling
You can stay rocking jewels, I be rocking your chin
Get the antiseptic out cause the jabs gonna sting
I’m the reason that most rappers rhyming shook
Got no watch on, I’m going for a timeless look
Cause I’m a beer drinker, I down in one line
There’s three things you’ll never see me with
Cuts, bruises, or a sun tan
The one man wrecking crew
Who you think you working? You get ripped
I rip rappers apart in a session
You no nuts, jumped up, son of a fucked up pair of Paris faggots
Unappear your appearance
You think I give a damn who the fuck you sinked?
I leave em punched up, snuffed, the jux you thing
Understand that the ? is gonna have the fucking ?
Wonder where the fuck you went

[Verse 2: Slaine]

Yo I live in a dump, shitfaced and dribbling drunk
Give him a bump, forty bottle, and a hit of the blunt
I put pestilent poetry on any pitiful punk
Spit at a chump leave the fucking stage littered with chunk
I’ll disfigure your fronts, out for six figures a month
I got friends in high places, tell those midgets to jump
This is your life homie you’re only living it once
We all came here the same way, delivered from cunts
I’m a son of a gun, gun of a son of a hun
And with a hundred and one reasons to bust off and act dumb
I’m nutty with the needle and there ain’t no way to fix me
A dirty devil and so dig your ditches if you diss me
I’m pissy off the whiskey, I’m higher off the coka
My pockets getting broke and my pockets getting broke
Some voices got trapped, some voices got beats
We got the kinda voices that are in your face

[Chorus x 2]

Like the bun to the burger, the burger to the bun
The three to the two to the murder to the one
Like the cherry to the apple, the peach to the plum
If you’re quick on the draw better reach for your gun

[Verse 3: Rob Kelly]

I never forget my enemies, I thought ?
Wait till I catch em slipping, crack em right in the jaw
The last one I hit him once he wasn’t ready to fall
So again with the second hand like Vincent DePaul
I’m ripping em all, really who the fuck want what?
I crush your pelvis in, leave you all shooked up
I’m all fucked up, I drank a whole bottle of scotch
Spit on the floor, gave her ? a shots
I got the hots for a fistfights, a jones for a bare-knuckle scrapping
I box your teeth in, now try rapping you gummy bear
Now you’re dripping blood to your underwear
I’ll bet you didn’t know I had the knuckles tucked under there
I’m from where everybody knows that I’m dumb hot
And you don’t need a guitar to get your punk rocked
The Johnny Rotten, put your face to the pavement
Mad love to Andy Lee and the Galeforce ?

[Chorus x 2]

Like the bun to the burger, the burger to the bun
The three to the two to the murder to the one
Like the cherry to the apple, the peach to the plum
If you fuck with O’Liffey Fam, your crew you better run

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