Werd N Deeko
Werd N Deeko - Bar Exchange songtekst
Je score:
[Intro:] What's that whos this what's this man Aye right cunt (huh) S.O.S. (haha) Who the fuck wanna (Werd) Nae Cunt (uh) [Werd:] You rappers fuck around you take after your ma We are a fucker of a pair like a double D bra Best in the game on the ball like Kaka So you know I will blow like I follow Allah They pick us like a damn guitar To be in the space that you're called a star I'll be blunt like the skin of a cigar Like a bar tender a attend to my bars Work on bars chin up cunt You don't want a fucking scar from the chin up cunt Get called Tony My doe fold like calzonis In my pocket with Es keys and pre-rollies I ain't no phony jabronie talking balonie homie I clearly show ye some gory stories with your cronies Sliced like pepperoni Because for flows they owe me Jesus Christ with a Knife A make them holy [Deeko:] I write song packing a punch harder than Tyson Spits poisonous like the venom out of a python Winking at your bird with a bitch under my right arm So come on come on come on over here to get done You don't know me you probably never will Go to clubs with a knife in my belt dressed to kill (Looking sharp) Giving me daggers fuck you man am giving you daggers Pick one which one to enter your abdomen You're only half a man This shit is getting embarrassing Punching the lights out of on transvestites Immaculate mind Compulsive theft a snatch what I find Steal your watch give it to Werd Just to pass the Time Fucking hoodlum About to blow up with my music like Muslims On the 26 bus headed to Luton (Fucking hell) The Al-Qaeda of rap will snap then You'll get bombarded with tracks I will hi-jack your whole cipher [Werd:] Ain't you heard Werd funny like stitches Stitches is witches get when I chib ye's Get a couple teams on cunts like grass pitches And fuck a grass slash if he's spraffin your business My plan hit hitches Still hitting no riches Spare change play pitchy not blew up strictly Underground sound yeah Deek is still with me Since we made with me Fuck that it's history Got sound like the Ministry and it's full of misery A have piff epiphanies so gifted in delivery Mics am addicted to so fuck how you picture me A leave a fool in disarray and tell them read a dictionary A literally take liberties to cunts with stupidity Indivisible most lyrically spit hot like high humidity Like weather that you're kidding me I flow on solar energy Son shines so advanced we battle with telepathy [Deeko:] Could kill a rapper with 8 bars Show up at the funeral Read the eulogy just to finish him off One of the last real rappers alive so don't panic While I'm hi-jacking you're mind Prepare you for crash landing Sitting quiet when am speaking my mind They can't stand it If my crew was ever part of a riot Then I planed it Don't ever give me daggers a'l give you a fucking sword Push it into your temple until you one with the lord (get it) My styles in your face the kind that can be ignored I swore to never rhyme poor that's something I can't afford Sitting staring at the floorboards feeling board Agitated trying to make this CD player record Got a list of whack rappers who think they've got it locked When am sitting backstage at shows ticking a box Like that's him Yeah him too He know he's gonna get it S.O.S. Deeko and Werd just so you don't forget it