Atmosphere

Atmosphere - Sep Seven Game Show Theme songtekst

Je score:

[Slug]

The following program has been brought to you by Rhymesayers Entertainment

The following program contains explicit lyrics

and we the producers stay defiantly behind the views expressed in the following program.

All right, all you players and player haters, once again it's time for the "Sep Sev" game show

Recorded live right here in lovely snowy Minnesota

this is the game where we make the average player a star. 

Now, if you'll join me, let's give it up for the host of the "Sep Sev" game show

that's right, here he is, Mr. Sep Sev...



YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, fuck the money, everyone on the floor drop

I want all the food in the bag, and I ain't tryin' to hear that soar talk

Stole the dinner and freaked it to the freeway

Flipped the screenplay, and made every love scene a three-way

Sound track recorded here in Minnesnowda

Tastes like ambrosia

Disinfects pen holders

Yo, let's hold our breath and show your chest, if you're proud of it

And wake me back to safety if you see me falling out of it

Under a full moon, the color ?of mind is a mucous?

See your in the distance, the images riveting

Given the way the clouds moved, it fucked with the lighting

Grabbed me by the thoughts and pulled me tight like a kite string



All right, let's hear it for contestant number one

What's your name sir?

Yo, MC famous, the killer



Okay Mr. Anus Driller, you want to play the next round for a new Lexus with matching socks? 

Or air on the horny Miami based video

or do you just want to take the phony looking fifty dollar bills and run with money?



Yo, I want the sex man, just give chicks man, just, just let me touch 'em man!



[Slug]

Now what If I spent, my whole day ?, on getting bent, and now I can't afford my rent

Do I grab a crowbar to your back door (Back door)

or hit up Super America for the cash drawer? (Fast forward)

I should be honest, cause even my outer conscience, 

Knows the odds of blowing up are equal to people waking up from sleeping, 

Keeping me from retrieving kingdoms and bed time stories, 

Used to bore me with, positioned in the orbit of my imagination

Small portion, even that much, flustered by the drug fell in lust with the rush

Hush, maybe somewhere in it I became a cynic, 

but your sexy grin gets less attractive by the minute

The planets in my head now rotate around the mind

The substance, the bug shit, all in my circumference

And I function

Like I don't give a fuck if you grasp it

Resent the bitch that don't and cast it under the masses; 

I asked, "Is that right?" I answered, "Does it matter?"

I was glancing at how you fancy the passion, bastard

How fast you scale the ladder to jump

I'd rather just flunk than gather your junk 

(Yo dog, you should blast that punk)



Alright, this next round our contestant is gonna have to slam

a whole bottle of expensive firewater, chase it with a forty of malt liquor

smoke a blunt, load a gun and sell records to 14 year olds all over the country

And the first one of you genocidal fashion fantasy fucks to go platinum wins



Wins what!?



Mr. Announcer, tell them what they'll win!



Well, they'll win respect, lot's and lot's of props!



[Slug]

Pissed on the Asti Spumonte, sippin' kamekazi

Shoulda called mommy when you saw me pull up in ?

The rest of you're life's a flashback when I jump out that hatchback

Here's your tape, give me my cash back

I'm on tracks, and that's that, in fact that's all you need

Either take some kind of lead, or fall to your knees and bleed

How's your scene?

And how's that rental running?

And how's the weed selling?

And how's the demo coming?

Me and my participants, be the reason why you and you crew bit your lips

Stick this in your mouth to cleanse it

The fuckin' prop is too expensive

Make's me want to end it (Repent kid)

My advice is from here on out you purchase yellow boxers

That way when your bitch does your laundry, she won't tell her moms about the stains created 

when I skated across that flat service you refer to as lyrical endowment

That content, that conscience, run down to that ?




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Taal: Engels

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