Crooks And Crimescenes 歌词
| 歌曲 | Crooks And Crimescenes |
| 歌手 | Spit Syndicate |
| 专辑 | Exile |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Verse 1 – Jimmy | |
| The crooks are back with nothing but a green light, | |
| Blame it on the three night benders and the cheap flights, | |
| The puff, pass out and the re-light, | |
| Blame it on broads and ball sports, we them eastside princes, | |
| No prints are left at the scene, we split the cash back at the pad n get high as my rent is, | |
| While I was two timing on an island with a princess, you were tool timing hiding behind your fences, | |
| But even though we burnt the candle at the twin ends, | |
| We still made time to put the flame to wax, ya get it? | |
| I did photography at uni, snapped a couple chicks like a bachelor and then got my bachelor in it, | |
| Adit, hit em with everything we've got man, | |
| I had to move out of the house and get back to business, | |
| I met a lad that hit the trains with us years back, he said hate the singsongs other than that we dig it, | |
| Like where's your writtens at jimmy game raw shit, | |
| That leave in a minute bag another broad shit, | |
| That all summer long strum another chord shit, | |
| All aboard we'll be gone in a couple of minutes, | |
| And isn't it funny that we ain't even in it for money still we get paid of the shit that we coin | |
| Roll a j baby this is the joint, the return, burn one down for ya Sydney boys. I get up, | |
| Chorus | |
| Everybody move, | |
| The whole place surrounded, | |
| We ain't coming out, but we got our hands up, | |
| See we've come too far to turn back now, | |
| We shut it down, all cities stand up, | |
| Sometimes the road don't rise to meet us, | |
| And the wind ain't always at our backs, | |
| But we keep our hands clean, No prints at the scene, | |
| Still running but we cover our tracks, | |
| One dayers we're back, like crooks and crime scenes. | |
| Verse 2 – NL | |
| They said: where you been loop, when you coming with the sophomore, | |
| First shit was cool, we dug it but we want more, | |
| Tell 'em we're busy and we're in it for the long haul, | |
| But the truth is we blow our whole budget on tour, | |
| Blow it on some kush, blow it out then once more, | |
| Blow it on some blow with some mind blowing young broads, | |
| I got the golden tonsils, fuck John Laws, | |
| Bartender bringing the bottle back like an encore, | |
| ..Clap clap applauding, we your compares, | |
| Trying to break the chains off like Con Air, | |
| Is this thing on? Yeah, yeah, we on air, | |
| A gentleman, I still throw game like Cronje, | |
| Still keep a healthy distrust, | |
| For the laws they write to sit above, | |
| Enough's never enough, | |
| See I trust politicians bout as much, | |
| As I trust myself with a brunette who doesn't give a fuck, | |
| As much as I trust my man Jimmy with some paint, | |
| Solo with some bud, or Diddy with a break, | |
| And me, well I've never been fitted for a cape, | |
| But still they hold me down in every city that I stay, | |
| We back for the riders, | |
| The flat liners, | |
| Black light the room, homie line 'em up, | |
| I got the hood with me friar tuck, | |
| The most pious of I-dub messiahs, light it up, I get up. |
| Verse 1 Jimmy | |
| The crooks are back with nothing but a green light, | |
| Blame it on the three night benders and the cheap flights, | |
| The puff, pass out and the relight, | |
| Blame it on broads and ball sports, we them eastside princes, | |
| No prints are left at the scene, we split the cash back at the pad n get high as my rent is, | |
| While I was two timing on an island with a princess, you were tool timing hiding behind your fences, | |
| But even though we burnt the candle at the twin ends, | |
| We still made time to put the flame to wax, ya get it? | |
| I did photography at uni, snapped a couple chicks like a bachelor and then got my bachelor in it, | |
| Adit, hit em with everything we' ve got man, | |
| I had to move out of the house and get back to business, | |
| I met a lad that hit the trains with us years back, he said hate the singsongs other than that we dig it, | |
| Like where' s your writtens at jimmy game raw shit, | |
| That leave in a minute bag another broad shit, | |
| That all summer long strum another chord shit, | |
| All aboard we' ll be gone in a couple of minutes, | |
| And isn' t it funny that we ain' t even in it for money still we get paid of the shit that we coin | |
| Roll a j baby this is the joint, the return, burn one down for ya Sydney boys. I get up, | |
| Chorus | |
| Everybody move, | |
| The whole place surrounded, | |
| We ain' t coming out, but we got our hands up, | |
| See we' ve come too far to turn back now, | |
| We shut it down, all cities stand up, | |
| Sometimes the road don' t rise to meet us, | |
| And the wind ain' t always at our backs, | |
| But we keep our hands clean, No prints at the scene, | |
| Still running but we cover our tracks, | |
| One dayers we' re back, like crooks and crime scenes. | |
| Verse 2 NL | |
| They said: where you been loop, when you coming with the sophomore, | |
| First shit was cool, we dug it but we want more, | |
| Tell ' em we' re busy and we' re in it for the long haul, | |
| But the truth is we blow our whole budget on tour, | |
| Blow it on some kush, blow it out then once more, | |
| Blow it on some blow with some mind blowing young broads, | |
| I got the golden tonsils, fuck John Laws, | |
| Bartender bringing the bottle back like an encore, | |
| .. Clap clap applauding, we your compares, | |
| Trying to break the chains off like Con Air, | |
| Is this thing on? Yeah, yeah, we on air, | |
| A gentleman, I still throw game like Cronje, | |
| Still keep a healthy distrust, | |
| For the laws they write to sit above, | |
| Enough' s never enough, | |
| See I trust politicians bout as much, | |
| As I trust myself with a brunette who doesn' t give a fuck, | |
| As much as I trust my man Jimmy with some paint, | |
| Solo with some bud, or Diddy with a break, | |
| And me, well I' ve never been fitted for a cape, | |
| But still they hold me down in every city that I stay, | |
| We back for the riders, | |
| The flat liners, | |
| Black light the room, homie line ' em up, | |
| I got the hood with me friar tuck, | |
| The most pious of Idub messiahs, light it up, I get up. |
| Verse 1 Jimmy | |
| The crooks are back with nothing but a green light, | |
| Blame it on the three night benders and the cheap flights, | |
| The puff, pass out and the relight, | |
| Blame it on broads and ball sports, we them eastside princes, | |
| No prints are left at the scene, we split the cash back at the pad n get high as my rent is, | |
| While I was two timing on an island with a princess, you were tool timing hiding behind your fences, | |
| But even though we burnt the candle at the twin ends, | |
| We still made time to put the flame to wax, ya get it? | |
| I did photography at uni, snapped a couple chicks like a bachelor and then got my bachelor in it, | |
| Adit, hit em with everything we' ve got man, | |
| I had to move out of the house and get back to business, | |
| I met a lad that hit the trains with us years back, he said hate the singsongs other than that we dig it, | |
| Like where' s your writtens at jimmy game raw shit, | |
| That leave in a minute bag another broad shit, | |
| That all summer long strum another chord shit, | |
| All aboard we' ll be gone in a couple of minutes, | |
| And isn' t it funny that we ain' t even in it for money still we get paid of the shit that we coin | |
| Roll a j baby this is the joint, the return, burn one down for ya Sydney boys. I get up, | |
| Chorus | |
| Everybody move, | |
| The whole place surrounded, | |
| We ain' t coming out, but we got our hands up, | |
| See we' ve come too far to turn back now, | |
| We shut it down, all cities stand up, | |
| Sometimes the road don' t rise to meet us, | |
| And the wind ain' t always at our backs, | |
| But we keep our hands clean, No prints at the scene, | |
| Still running but we cover our tracks, | |
| One dayers we' re back, like crooks and crime scenes. | |
| Verse 2 NL | |
| They said: where you been loop, when you coming with the sophomore, | |
| First shit was cool, we dug it but we want more, | |
| Tell ' em we' re busy and we' re in it for the long haul, | |
| But the truth is we blow our whole budget on tour, | |
| Blow it on some kush, blow it out then once more, | |
| Blow it on some blow with some mind blowing young broads, | |
| I got the golden tonsils, fuck John Laws, | |
| Bartender bringing the bottle back like an encore, | |
| .. Clap clap applauding, we your compares, | |
| Trying to break the chains off like Con Air, | |
| Is this thing on? Yeah, yeah, we on air, | |
| A gentleman, I still throw game like Cronje, | |
| Still keep a healthy distrust, | |
| For the laws they write to sit above, | |
| Enough' s never enough, | |
| See I trust politicians bout as much, | |
| As I trust myself with a brunette who doesn' t give a fuck, | |
| As much as I trust my man Jimmy with some paint, | |
| Solo with some bud, or Diddy with a break, | |
| And me, well I' ve never been fitted for a cape, | |
| But still they hold me down in every city that I stay, | |
| We back for the riders, | |
| The flat liners, | |
| Black light the room, homie line ' em up, | |
| I got the hood with me friar tuck, | |
| The most pious of Idub messiahs, light it up, I get up. |
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