lirik lagu camboi smif – dreams
put my f-ckin robe on
go and turn the stove on
scramble up some eggs
to throw some avocados on
hit da f-ckin bong
and then i f-ckin doze off
woke up in an hour
and then took a f-ckin zoloft
you know dawg
i gotta get my serotonin flowin’
don’t, and i’ll be mopin’ like an
edgar allen poe poem
big b-tches on my f-ck
bone and they slow roastin’
pig pickin’ at dat boston b-tt
while i’m go-pro’in
i have awoken
from a dream within a dream
i been sleepin’ for a year
b-tch, i need my caffeine
i got da highest iq
i got dat 420, my
charisma got deez b-tches
itchin’ to shoot a p-rn wimme
you can’t ignore me, cuz
i’ll take a dookie in yo mouth
without makin’ a sound, watch
you find that sh-t out and spit it out
i got dat mike ehrmantraut
kinda demeanor
except i’m meaner and my p-n-s
reaches the length of my femur
if you a belieber, i’mma
take a cleveland steamer
on yo chest’n s-m-n in
yo f-ckin coffee like creamer
i ain’t no underachiever
i’m under sheets with yo preacher
suckin’ on his f-ckin d-ck until he
s-m-ns up my tonsils like p-n-ses
cheater cheater
m-th-f-ckin pumpkin eater
got dat sh-t as a bumper stick’on
my cadillac two-seater
whose peter, do i
gotta suck round here
to get a blunt fulla weed
and a very dark brown beer
gotta get f-cked up
erry day and night, if
it wasn’t for the bud
i wouldn’t be alive
i would’a died
by way of a suicide’n
i bet i woulda done it on
the first day of junior high
when i walked in the doors
and that b-tch in the shorts
started pickin’ on my d-ck
for bein’ so d-mn big
i was real self-conscious
bout that sh-t
i would’a slit my throat with pencil
right in front of that b-tch
i would’a put my f-ckin fingers
all up into dat slit
split it with my wrists, then
unhinged and ripped out my chin
i would begin to pretend, dat
i am some sort of demon
i would do some devil prayers
while my whole d-mn head was bleedin’
bet dat little f-ckin b-tch
would’a freaked out, and
i bet i woulda whipped my
whole d-mn p-n-s out
but i was geeked out
on dat marijuana weed
420 bud pot
ganja from my glove box
blood clots
all around my f-ckin c-ck
bus stops
is where i buy dat f-ckin rock
smokin crack all day
ain’t never gonna stop, load
sprayin’ on a painting, of the
m-th-f-ckin son of god
i should be mummified
with c-m in my eye
acquired license to drive
while high on mai tais
my thighs
are a nice size
your thighs look like, dey some
cajun fries from five guys
i mean, i think, that
you’re a nice guy
but i wouldn’t shake your hand
nor would i give yo -ss a high five
nice try, tough guy, but
i just saw through your disguise
you a b-tch and you know, dat
you are no friend of mine
of any kind
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