DJ Yoda,Apathy,Celph Titled,Kwest — Fresh Fly Fellas

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Текст DJ Yoda,Apathy,Celph Titled,Kwest — Fresh Fly Fellas

Yo it’s kinetic
It’s best
Leaving your skeleton crushed
I bug out like crack heads
Through an adrenalin rush
Plus I’m holdin’ more blocks down than gravity’s grip
You see a chick in your whip
Ballin’ Apathy’s dick
My salary’s thick
Pullin’ more chips from the raps on wax
Than cats stack in craps or blackjack
I’m rich yo
Mac thick hoes with sick flows
I flip to rich hoes for self Pacino
On tour
I’m hardcore
Catch a little whore
Getting banged on the bathroom floor
And she said it wasn’t her
Yeah it was
Yo I can’t even lie
I’m irresistible and every bitch thinks that I’m fly
Walk by give your chick a little wink with the eye
And make the man feel soft so he doesn’t reply
There’s nothing to think
You faggots better tuck in your link
When seeing me and sacrifice ice to the nicest MC

«We’re fresh fly fellas»

Now I don’t longer inhale dank to activate my think tank
I spit bars to bartenders and bars over drinks
Fuck skinny mamas
I like ’em shaped like Coca-Cola bottles
Tryin to holla at Takara from the Next Top Model
Hard act to follow when my noggin’s full throttle
Psychology got MCs tryin’ to bottle me to swallow
The anomaly that what commonly passes as rhymin’ be
Don’t speak, Crystal, pistols, chips, whips and death and diamonds, see?
My verses versus your verses
Like dispersing curses from witchdoctor to piss doctor
Better get doctors and nurses
What is bond, feet first
Like a breach birth
I’d rather rap, kiss my crack than put platinum on my teeth hurt, word
How can I get it through your fitted
What you spit’s pitiful? I can’t
That’s why I sit and view the bull you mental midgets do
I’m signin’ off
Sometimes on I’m rhymin’ timin’ off
I’m a con for a hip-hop, pop, Bach, and rock Rachmaninov

Now I don’t know a god damn thing about bricks and grams
Since the way I do hits they call me ‘Spick and Span’
FYI, it’s best you learn to sleep with a handgun
That’s an age-old trade that I’mma instil in my grandson
Your crew is soft
Lookin’ suspect of course
Mistake you for the Village People or the Soul Sonic Force
Put rainbow-hair faggots to the test like no other
Drop ’em from the tenth floor
They gon’ pass with flyin’ colors motherfucker
I’ve got a few screws loose and my Uz’ is foolproof
No safety triggers like a loose tooth
I don’t care about Bentleys, Hummers, Diablos
I put twenty-four inch rims on a Volvo
And pull fat bitches with my clothes all wrinkly
All it takes is a wink of the eye
And one Twinkie
A rapper wanna diss? He just a two-ball bitch
Up on Girls Gone Wild suckin’ Snoop Dogg’s dick