Cadence Weapon - Limited Edition OJ Slammer - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Limited Edition OJ Slammer

Cadence Weapon

Afterparty Babies

53

Rap

Tekst piosenki
Tabloid crutch or tabloid crush? Famous players painted an absinthe rush Van Gogh with it ‘til the mandates made Man with a schedule, I can’t be late I’m not an ambulance chaser, unless I have to be My job’s a tough one, it’s garnering apathy From the stuffed shirt mercantile system wisdom bitches With a job that kills their brain out, played out Talk to me and you’ll find out who’s cheating Who with, who’s beating and who’s sick Who’s speaking to Hugh’s friends And who’s being a nuisance to Ben and Jen Or Jen and Brad and that Tomb Raider chick And don’t hate me, baby, ‘cause you paid for it I'm not a monster, no, I’m not a monster I just do what I have to get rich Gold-plated and razor-shaped Brain washer, mind deleter Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise was my idea Arranged relationships, based on the patronage Of millions of moviegoers, many ages and races Big faces in places of the strangest basis Stasis, shut the fuck up and be complacent And buy that rag like the maid in my house I watch Extra and wipe the fame off my mouth And if they ask what daddy does Tell them he holds a camera up There's no need to name the name’s names We aren’t so different, we play the same games Like status quo for pro bono And blackface primetime coons like _______ But it makes no difference if we win or lose Elegant rouse, ooh, I’m fixing moves Gold-plated and razor-shaped Denzel got robbed and I’ll never forget the look He took from the ceremony, phony franchise He had Nixon heart, “I am not a crook” But I will take the statue if I win for one I’m looking for the real killers Jackson had a glove too, but there ain’t blood on those fingers They talk love on it, honest, they run comments About the freak that got away in a Jeep As always, had a Pog slammer as a young buck A gold razorblade with the juice on the front You’re a fake Robert Blake with that pump And Beretta did that shit, you know, with the chick he dumped It runs through my fingers like a dead blonde’s blood CNN will blame it on a husband’s gun Pretend it ain’t real, peel the vic’s seal And you’ll still get that promo deal, enjoy the fruit basket Gold-plated and razor-shaped
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