lirik lagu chuck nasty - imperfect
[verse 1]
as i write my life like barbara peters…
i gasp the morning air like portishead and dodge my fears…
downing beers before i slumber catch the diarrhea…
i grab the skine and use the pen to scribe the gonorrhea…hmph…
the odd future of this amadeus
got me drowning sorrows in the prayers like a monotheist
never found a woman to conspire with and buy a prius
guess it’s easier to find a succubus to ride the p-n-s…i mean…
i’m just a city kid in rural housing
condescending n-gga who could never find a fool arousing
blinded by thought that finding love is when you fool around then
find a bottom b-tch that’s good enough to make you through with browsing
fit in with the in-crowd…
break her heart, look cool when prowling
find a lot of women call them b-tches then just lure them vowing
that you love them just the way they are
but don’t really give a f-ck just f-ck and have em on your d-ck
to boost your ego to a point your friends think you’re astounding…
[hook]
‘least that’s what i was told
“we don’t love them hoes my n-gga they just dominoes”
rise of the imperfects, fighting back like johnny ohm
f-ck em. f-ck em, f-ck em until you give the condom holes…
-repeated twice-
[verse 2]
this sh-t is…metaphysical…sort of like a chemical
trapped in the portabellos stiletto all you visuals
meadows of the rhythmical kick and snare patterns blessing cellos
with some sh-t that’s stacking cheddar like a business school
i sell my soul to the beretta when i spit the stool…
but this letter’s feeling better than me skipping school
demon with the clean p-ss, chicks weaving like a seamstress…
’til i had that threesome in college. my d-ck’s been mean since
i mean since y’e’en sh-t, if you had a clean d-ck
i ain’t see the problem with getting freaky with scene chicks…
i mean i never kiss a chick but f-cked a couple broads…
but what’s the difference if my d-ck is uppercutting jaws?
tried to be the main event, they stuck me with the under card
good cooking; mastered the art of just being f-cking raw
shimmy shimmy f-cking ya. he ain’t skinny f-ckin ra
sun god apollo in egypt, but screaming f-ck the law
apollo and creed, a hollow following cheese
i hit ichigo with the bleach until he falls to his knees
gut the pumpkin, squeeze the pulp, you roast and swallow the seeds
i’ll be gone til november like following halloween
sn0bby b-tches used to hate me like the prom queen…
’til i grew some dreads and figured out my rhyme scheme…hmph
they call me nasty like a lecher acts, master of the record scratch
man this sh-t is easy as a checkers match…
[hook]
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