P.O.S. - Bush-League Psych-Out Stuff - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Bush-League Psych-Out Stuff

P.O.S.

Audition

92

Rap

Tekst piosenki
[Intro: Slug] Auditon? Yeah I got this... Yeah I was at your show Yeah... No I mean no I didn't like it No I'm just saying I was there And a... Doomtree! You suck ha ha ha... Alright... Fuck Cecil Otter, fuck P.O.S., fuck Sims Fuck... Dessa, or whatever the fuck she calls herself Fuck Paper Tiger, Swedish name for a Japanese punk band Fuck, uh, Joe Mabbott, and fuck Alanis Morissette [Verse 1: Slug] Sometimes I feel like a bastard surrounded by fathers Fashioning themselves to resemble action figures Passing opinions across the pasture like we asked you Like we have to have your last pieces gathered, like it even matters Like we're trying to climb this ladder a little bit faster Like I'd rather let the captain lead us into disaster (crash) Like the bladder never adapted to laughter Like I won't be the first rapper to cinder your plaster casters And after the new dawn is gone My name is Sean, I don't know no'n But my songs and these coupons I lost my soul and watched it drip down her futon I lost my God inside of a bush that sprouts nuke bombs Now I'm looking for a word that don't exist To help describe this selfish pride that I hide inside this fist We've arrived to loosen up this noose that keeps us lifted And rip these stitches while I introduce this piece of shit... [Verse 2: P.O.S] Yeah stand back (stand back) Let me be the target, let your bullett hit, I'll handle that Let me see you flex aggressive ignorance, see half these cats Stagger lack the simple common sense to put one foot before the other Hop, trip, slip Slid into home base like you planned rehearsed Some kind of celebration dance, you got tagged at first And kept running Jumping the gun for what you got coming Homie no handout's till the pitcher hits you Your acting like your stitches rippin' I got nothing but what my crew and open folks are bumpin' Trustin' their trust and feeling busted for trusting their trust So fuck it, everything else gets tugged under rugs Til' I get something like a crowd of cats mumbling my words Show me some heart, let me tug (Slug: Give me a pound or a hug) Hear the sound like a drug homie Just free-base beats, life's cheap If you live it right, right? If the words are tight, might Brighten the head in the dark, kill the night light [Verse 3: Slug] Stand back, no piggy backing with the Mad Max A Minni-ap road warrior give me that hand clap From the hatch back to Amtrack to aircraft Ransacked every city that the kids be at (the Virgo mac!) Jumping hurdles that you carried in your back pack The love curdles at the match books last act Licking the stamps back just for physical flashbacks The times of writing rhymes to get my cats and my plans back They tell me I deserve to be happy, now doesn't seem valid 'Til we get rid of alcohol How many are doing nothing but sucking on flavors? I'm try'na edit the credits while their critiquing the trailers So I'mma rant like theres something to say Making up my own dance I'mma do it this way (watch me) And I'mma try and take it all around the world (While I'm out on tour keep your hand off my girl!) [Verse 4: P.O.S] Sometimes I feel like the bastard son Oh where the fucks my father Like a shattered shoulder Like the chip got smashed Off to class; At the door with my shoes and my coat So now I'm here again, I brought the clown, we came to rock the boat I hold you down, you set them up I'll set the bar and drive around We'll let your style do the knocking, here's a pen go to town Paint it with big broad strokes, I'll study your path And hope your pride can take a joke when I say its "dope" with air quotes and laugh Man I'm pleased as shit to ask How can I add you up, devide your crew and still be horrible at math? Now answer that and stay fasionable (just try it) Go bash the bricks and stomp them koopas kid, the princess still ain't at this castle Mr Of Course, the youngster hoarse from screaming on him But shit, I toss the lozange quick and drop my throat back on him Turning teens into fiends from the beats to the bear hugs I got the stuff that gets 'em buying up the ear plugs [Outro: Slug] (Close up your ears... Close up your whole face... This will melt your brain... Oozing Oooo no... I wouldn't go outside looking like that... Ohhh...)
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