歌曲 | Between Villains Feat Captain murphy Viktor Vaugh Earl Sweatshirt |
歌手 | Flying Lotus |
专辑 | 24 Song Zip File |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
[Verse 1: Viktor Vaughn] | |
Vik, the wild islander, bringing out the child in ya | |
Singing out the silencer with more violence than "Heil Hitler" | |
He get some looks, some bull*************t roll-over, a dusty pullover and a Pulitzer | |
A must we bust your crusty subwoofer sista | |
Foes is just bluffin', clear your nose from huff-puffin' | |
A glutton for bludgeoning blood gu*************n', here you go, stud muffin | |
It’s nothin', get it on the get-by | |
Bet it on a dead guy, jet it on the red eye | |
Too many make mistake fillers, not enough live wires | |
Too many fake killers, and jive sires | |
Dropped these bombs on a critic from a grass knoll | |
Everybody got one, your mom's is a asshole | |
S.O.B. and smug to the u**ost | |
Cut it close and catch a slug to the gut Mos, word to Thu**ose | |
What's worse, clutch your purse close, lady | |
We get more cheese bread for the baby, toast to Grady, one-eighty | |
[Verse 2: Earl Sweat*************rt] | |
I'm in the cut looking for some puss to pick apart | |
Dirty like us riding in the whip that really isn't ours | |
Storming out the door, don't press record, I hate my ******g voice | |
Trying to kill that noise, performing fill that void slightly | |
I'm swimming in water that's been dicy since landing | |
And I'm owing these *************s nothing | |
Like all that I've been handed for free, don't pan your cameras to me | |
Ho, don't command me to speak | |
Got these little *************s swinging from the banister, on Fax in his pajamas | |
Walking slow because the camels keep his stamina weak | |
And you could catch him like some halibut after a bad accident | |
Trying to get jaw-jacked right where the catheter peeks out | |
Villain, Earl, and Captain in command of your street now | |
Rapping good as mother******g janitors sweep now | |
Getting business handled, get the cannabis cheap now | |
It's a bunch of nuggets on him like it's sand on a beach towel | |
[Verse 3: Captain Murphy] | |
Captain's back (Yay!) | |
So go on put your mic away | |
(Where?) Inside a microwave (...Oh.) | |
When I die, I bet you Mike'll wave (tee-hee) | |
We blowing bubbles at the pearly gates | |
Took a selfie with the king but only see my face | |
I’m writing darker pieces in my thesis | |
I’m hiding in the park with all your nieces | |
Tradin' head for Reese's Pieces | |
Interject in *************s' verses with this book of witches' curses | |
I cast a spell upon your ******* but my thirst is for the hearses | |
I’m spilling out my innards | |
To these n-words, journey inwards | |
Caught her quarter past the moment | |
Got a cord of past opponents | |
In a fragment of a moment man I killed that rap then owned it | |
Hope to overtake the planet, with my banana in a hammock | |
************* manic parents panic, I’m a mechanic with these patterns | |
Propagandic with that chatter, matter of fact the Madder Hatter | |
Never mind the hammer, manners out the window | |
Pump crescendo, puff the endo, I’m Lou Ferrigno | |
Just pretendo, don’t ask him where the pen go | |
Cause the pencil got me paper paid and paydirt made them paint her | |
With the mask and faded sweat*************rt, nothing lesser | |
Bet you’ll never ever guess what I left under the dresser | |
Hid a message in the 808 to pester all the Heshers |
Verse 1: Viktor Vaughn | |
Vik, the wild islander, bringing out the child in ya | |
Singing out the silencer with more violence than " Heil Hitler" | |
He get some looks, some bull t rollover, a dusty pullover and a Pulitzer | |
A must we bust your crusty subwoofer sista | |
Foes is just bluffin', clear your nose from huffpuffin' | |
A glutton for bludgeoning blood gu n', here you go, stud muffin | |
It' s nothin', get it on the getby | |
Bet it on a dead guy, jet it on the red eye | |
Too many make mistake fillers, not enough live wires | |
Too many fake killers, and jive sires | |
Dropped these bombs on a critic from a grass knoll | |
Everybody got one, your mom' s is a asshole | |
S. O. B. and smug to the u ost | |
Cut it close and catch a slug to the gut Mos, word to Thu ose | |
What' s worse, clutch your purse close, lady | |
We get more cheese bread for the baby, toast to Grady, oneeighty | |
Verse 2: Earl Sweat rt | |
I' m in the cut looking for some puss to pick apart | |
Dirty like us riding in the whip that really isn' t ours | |
Storming out the door, don' t press record, I hate my g voice | |
Trying to kill that noise, performing fill that void slightly | |
I' m swimming in water that' s been dicy since landing | |
And I' m owing these s nothing | |
Like all that I' ve been handed for free, don' t pan your cameras to me | |
Ho, don' t command me to speak | |
Got these little s swinging from the banister, on Fax in his pajamas | |
Walking slow because the camels keep his stamina weak | |
And you could catch him like some halibut after a bad accident | |
Trying to get jawjacked right where the catheter peeks out | |
Villain, Earl, and Captain in command of your street now | |
Rapping good as mother g janitors sweep now | |
Getting business handled, get the cannabis cheap now | |
It' s a bunch of nuggets on him like it' s sand on a beach towel | |
Verse 3: Captain Murphy | |
Captain' s back Yay! | |
So go on put your mic away | |
Where? Inside a microwave ... Oh. | |
When I die, I bet you Mike' ll wave teehee | |
We blowing bubbles at the pearly gates | |
Took a selfie with the king but only see my face | |
I' m writing darker pieces in my thesis | |
I' m hiding in the park with all your nieces | |
Tradin' head for Reese' s Pieces | |
Interject in s' verses with this book of witches' curses | |
I cast a spell upon your but my thirst is for the hearses | |
I' m spilling out my innards | |
To these nwords, journey inwards | |
Caught her quarter past the moment | |
Got a cord of past opponents | |
In a fragment of a moment man I killed that rap then owned it | |
Hope to overtake the planet, with my banana in a hammock | |
manic parents panic, I' m a mechanic with these patterns | |
Propagandic with that chatter, matter of fact the Madder Hatter | |
Never mind the hammer, manners out the window | |
Pump crescendo, puff the endo, I' m Lou Ferrigno | |
Just pretendo, don' t ask him where the pen go | |
Cause the pencil got me paper paid and paydirt made them paint her | |
With the mask and faded sweat rt, nothing lesser | |
Bet you' ll never ever guess what I left under the dresser | |
Hid a message in the 808 to pester all the Heshers |
Verse 1: Viktor Vaughn | |
Vik, the wild islander, bringing out the child in ya | |
Singing out the silencer with more violence than " Heil Hitler" | |
He get some looks, some bull t rollover, a dusty pullover and a Pulitzer | |
A must we bust your crusty subwoofer sista | |
Foes is just bluffin', clear your nose from huffpuffin' | |
A glutton for bludgeoning blood gu n', here you go, stud muffin | |
It' s nothin', get it on the getby | |
Bet it on a dead guy, jet it on the red eye | |
Too many make mistake fillers, not enough live wires | |
Too many fake killers, and jive sires | |
Dropped these bombs on a critic from a grass knoll | |
Everybody got one, your mom' s is a asshole | |
S. O. B. and smug to the u ost | |
Cut it close and catch a slug to the gut Mos, word to Thu ose | |
What' s worse, clutch your purse close, lady | |
We get more cheese bread for the baby, toast to Grady, oneeighty | |
Verse 2: Earl Sweat rt | |
I' m in the cut looking for some puss to pick apart | |
Dirty like us riding in the whip that really isn' t ours | |
Storming out the door, don' t press record, I hate my g voice | |
Trying to kill that noise, performing fill that void slightly | |
I' m swimming in water that' s been dicy since landing | |
And I' m owing these s nothing | |
Like all that I' ve been handed for free, don' t pan your cameras to me | |
Ho, don' t command me to speak | |
Got these little s swinging from the banister, on Fax in his pajamas | |
Walking slow because the camels keep his stamina weak | |
And you could catch him like some halibut after a bad accident | |
Trying to get jawjacked right where the catheter peeks out | |
Villain, Earl, and Captain in command of your street now | |
Rapping good as mother g janitors sweep now | |
Getting business handled, get the cannabis cheap now | |
It' s a bunch of nuggets on him like it' s sand on a beach towel | |
Verse 3: Captain Murphy | |
Captain' s back Yay! | |
So go on put your mic away | |
Where? Inside a microwave ... Oh. | |
When I die, I bet you Mike' ll wave teehee | |
We blowing bubbles at the pearly gates | |
Took a selfie with the king but only see my face | |
I' m writing darker pieces in my thesis | |
I' m hiding in the park with all your nieces | |
Tradin' head for Reese' s Pieces | |
Interject in s' verses with this book of witches' curses | |
I cast a spell upon your but my thirst is for the hearses | |
I' m spilling out my innards | |
To these nwords, journey inwards | |
Caught her quarter past the moment | |
Got a cord of past opponents | |
In a fragment of a moment man I killed that rap then owned it | |
Hope to overtake the planet, with my banana in a hammock | |
manic parents panic, I' m a mechanic with these patterns | |
Propagandic with that chatter, matter of fact the Madder Hatter | |
Never mind the hammer, manners out the window | |
Pump crescendo, puff the endo, I' m Lou Ferrigno | |
Just pretendo, don' t ask him where the pen go | |
Cause the pencil got me paper paid and paydirt made them paint her | |
With the mask and faded sweat rt, nothing lesser | |
Bet you' ll never ever guess what I left under the dresser | |
Hid a message in the 808 to pester all the Heshers |