Sims Jong Il 歌词
| 歌曲 | Sims Jong Il |
| 歌手 | Sims |
| 专辑 | Field Notes |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Well I stepped up my cleats on | |
| and that chin music is my theme song | |
| that brush off, that write off, I just use that as a deduction | |
| that mean mugging don’t mean nothing | |
| hold the line, I play the whole 9 | |
| I steal second, I scrape for mine | |
| you can take the signs or you can pay no mind | |
| I’m on the verge, hold the sermon | |
| like I told the purists, if I played it safe I would’ve sold insurance | |
| so I kill it ’til it’s dead, till it ’til it grows | |
| get it on the road then tour it ’til it’s old | |
| like any good crow I never tip toe around a motherfucking straw man | |
| make me like amen, or god damn, or something | |
| like money for nothing | |
| in common | |
| I came up on ramen | |
| nine of us and we’re lining up | |
| and you must be high on that diamond dust | |
| now I’m grinding out until my time is up | |
| I didn’t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I’m in the wind and I ain’t no average citizen | |
| I ain’t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce | |
| I am the chem trail in your easy mac | |
| Sims Jong Il to all you Tumbl’ing amnesiacs | |
| faking funk and celiacs | |
| got me out here feeling old on my Holden Caulfield calling phony | |
| I’m from the land of Uncle Ole’s yelling fuck the police | |
| Axel Foley your magic kingdom, leave a mess on your linoleum | |
| In the kitchen with a downgraded Pluto enriching Plutonium | |
| these molly poppers went too based, looking Rob Ford | |
| that ain’t flavor that’s Kool Aid, you’re skating on a long board | |
| I’m taking shots singing C-Murder until I wind up on the floor | |
| then I’m Hasselhoffing this cheeseburger, call you up around four | |
| I’m Nick Caging this Vegas, I’m lighting up these stages | |
| they say baseless shit to get famous, they're Jim Rome, they’re Skip Bayless | |
| sunglasses and bail money, my cunning and my homies | |
| we’re running, we’re hungry, you stay praying on some pony | |
| stay blue Lonely Boy, southsider, outlier, the gasoline to your house fire | |
| and I ride this shit ’til there are no tires | |
| I didn’t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I’m in the wind and I ain’t no average citizen | |
| I ain’t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce |
| Well I stepped up my cleats on | |
| and that chin music is my theme song | |
| that brush off, that write off, I just use that as a deduction | |
| that mean mugging don' t mean nothing | |
| hold the line, I play the whole 9 | |
| I steal second, I scrape for mine | |
| you can take the signs or you can pay no mind | |
| I' m on the verge, hold the sermon | |
| like I told the purists, if I played it safe I would' ve sold insurance | |
| so I kill it ' til it' s dead, till it ' til it grows | |
| get it on the road then tour it ' til it' s old | |
| like any good crow I never tip toe around a motherfucking straw man | |
| make me like amen, or god damn, or something | |
| like money for nothing | |
| in common | |
| I came up on ramen | |
| nine of us and we' re lining up | |
| and you must be high on that diamond dust | |
| now I' m grinding out until my time is up | |
| I didn' t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I' m in the wind and I ain' t no average citizen | |
| I ain' t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce | |
| I am the chem trail in your easy mac | |
| Sims Jong Il to all you Tumbl' ing amnesiacs | |
| faking funk and celiacs | |
| got me out here feeling old on my Holden Caulfield calling phony | |
| I' m from the land of Uncle Ole' s yelling fuck the police | |
| Axel Foley your magic kingdom, leave a mess on your linoleum | |
| In the kitchen with a downgraded Pluto enriching Plutonium | |
| these molly poppers went too based, looking Rob Ford | |
| that ain' t flavor that' s Kool Aid, you' re skating on a long board | |
| I' m taking shots singing CMurder until I wind up on the floor | |
| then I' m Hasselhoffing this cheeseburger, call you up around four | |
| I' m Nick Caging this Vegas, I' m lighting up these stages | |
| they say baseless shit to get famous, they' re Jim Rome, they' re Skip Bayless | |
| sunglasses and bail money, my cunning and my homies | |
| we' re running, we' re hungry, you stay praying on some pony | |
| stay blue Lonely Boy, southsider, outlier, the gasoline to your house fire | |
| and I ride this shit ' til there are no tires | |
| I didn' t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I' m in the wind and I ain' t no average citizen | |
| I ain' t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce |
| Well I stepped up my cleats on | |
| and that chin music is my theme song | |
| that brush off, that write off, I just use that as a deduction | |
| that mean mugging don' t mean nothing | |
| hold the line, I play the whole 9 | |
| I steal second, I scrape for mine | |
| you can take the signs or you can pay no mind | |
| I' m on the verge, hold the sermon | |
| like I told the purists, if I played it safe I would' ve sold insurance | |
| so I kill it ' til it' s dead, till it ' til it grows | |
| get it on the road then tour it ' til it' s old | |
| like any good crow I never tip toe around a motherfucking straw man | |
| make me like amen, or god damn, or something | |
| like money for nothing | |
| in common | |
| I came up on ramen | |
| nine of us and we' re lining up | |
| and you must be high on that diamond dust | |
| now I' m grinding out until my time is up | |
| I didn' t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I' m in the wind and I ain' t no average citizen | |
| I ain' t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce | |
| I am the chem trail in your easy mac | |
| Sims Jong Il to all you Tumbl' ing amnesiacs | |
| faking funk and celiacs | |
| got me out here feeling old on my Holden Caulfield calling phony | |
| I' m from the land of Uncle Ole' s yelling fuck the police | |
| Axel Foley your magic kingdom, leave a mess on your linoleum | |
| In the kitchen with a downgraded Pluto enriching Plutonium | |
| these molly poppers went too based, looking Rob Ford | |
| that ain' t flavor that' s Kool Aid, you' re skating on a long board | |
| I' m taking shots singing CMurder until I wind up on the floor | |
| then I' m Hasselhoffing this cheeseburger, call you up around four | |
| I' m Nick Caging this Vegas, I' m lighting up these stages | |
| they say baseless shit to get famous, they' re Jim Rome, they' re Skip Bayless | |
| sunglasses and bail money, my cunning and my homies | |
| we' re running, we' re hungry, you stay praying on some pony | |
| stay blue Lonely Boy, southsider, outlier, the gasoline to your house fire | |
| and I ride this shit ' til there are no tires | |
| I didn' t come to play games, I came to win | |
| I get it in then I' m in the wind and I ain' t no average citizen | |
| I ain' t living in that bitter end | |
| I come to stack my dividends and then bounce |
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