lirik lagu drop city yacht club - miserlou
miserlou lyrics
[intro]
whoo! ha, ha, ha
ha, holy sh~t, [?], holy sh~t (whoo) (hey, hey)
[verse 1: kristo]
yeah, pressure cooker, pressure cooker can’t make mistakes
like wolverine’s bones (ayy), can’t take a break (ayy)
no way, no vacay but palm trees surround me
okay, no mayday but you could see us goin’ down
what you call a problem, i call brief interference
breachin’ mclarens, jump inside the driver’s seat, now i’m steerin’
and adjust the mirror, i was clearin’, turn the stereo up (up, up)
then turn it back down ’cause everything i’m hearin’ just sucks (ha)
don’t give a f~ck like ridin’ dirty through suburbia (uh~uh)
bars so heavy, pick ’em up and get a hernia (uh~huh)
i am so determined to sermon, i’m callin’ erykah
pairin’ to permanently change my name to hypothermia
once more (once more), i don’t understand what they front for
find me a bank, i’ll laugh my way to the front door (ha~ha)
now they wanna roll but it’s too late (too late)
see, joke’s on you, ha, touché (touché)
got ’em all lined up at the [?]
you play [?] like tuesday, hey, hey
hey you, babe
let’s jump this [?] and overdose
standin’ at the altar, not a chance of having frozen toes (no)
and you kermits had your permits revoked
for jumpin’ on the bandwagon, now you countin’ my spokes (count ’em up)
[break: kristo]
fresh
“oh, i’m sorry, did i break your concentration?
please, continue…” (wow)
[verse 2: a~wolf]
leakin’ my own, i started my own class
you f~ckers need help, i don’t need a pen and pad (no)
i f~ck your favorite model then send her home in a cab
but maybe uber that b~tch, i p~~per~scooper that b~tch, you know?
that means sh~tted on her
then walk around with that face like i just did it on her
i kick that knowledge, drop that pimpin’ on her
fresh to death, boy, i been a goner
i’m in the game, i should’ve been a starter
[verse 3: micky munday]
now it’s your fur, close the curtains like i’m tryna hide
hoppin’ out that backseat like i don’t even drive
i’m feelin’ like big on ready to die
but my fit look like i’m f~ckin’ ready to fly
man, i’m just a petty hustler who rolls from the streets
and all my homies bear arms like they didn’t have sleeves
man, i’m flexin’ on you b~tches; no cameras, just cheese
and when i die, they gon’ hologram me
[chorus: kristo]
fresh, i be (i be)
flyer than a jet, i be (i be)
so sick, better get iv (iv)
say you better get like me
fresh, fresh, fre~fre~fre~fre~fresh, i be
flyer than a jet, i be (i be)
say you better get like me (like me)
or f~ck around and get your ass whooped
[verse 4: s~mak]
uh, uh
young international man of leisure, hit london for the weekend
now watch the next twirl on all the girlies when he creeps in
somethin’ european engineered to tie your screecher
and yes, i’m talkin’ english, motherf~cker, do you speak it? (yes)
then tell me what he looks like—he’s black, he’s sharp
he rocks a fancy [?] with waves deep as cape cod’s
my god, speed up and catch me
on [?] tide skatin’
[?] gretzky, no messy talks, be an [?]
i’m gunnin’ right for your headpiece, hitman without a motive
fiend luxury all the motive, hit the gas and crank the motor
whiplash on me never slow up, two [?] on your every shoulder
show out every time i show up, trunk your deuces when i roll up
hol’ up, hol’ up, hol’ up (ha~ha)
(hol’ up, hol’ up, hol’ up)
hol’ up, hol’ up, hol’ up
hol’ up
[verse 5: sincere blak poet]
yeah, uh
double back for some [?]
forty racks on a promo
they told me black was a no~go
now gucci matchin’ my polo
and they be talkin’ stacks with facts, they ain’t got no though
i set up in the trap, two hunnid stacks on the low~low
no xo’s, these cats get exposed
blak exposed on many tracks, ex~throned
and that act goes in the hoods throughout the west, yo
your big boy about [?], pretty good but not the best
feelin’ like big did in ninety~one
but i don’t mean big poppa, i mean pun, yeah
black flow like the homie of fat joe
run up on me, this mack blow, they don’t want me to stack dough
almost let rap go, left it for mack flow
like f~ck a packed show as long as my pack show, uh
i’m back though, tell ’em, “run out the back do'”
came back for you [?], [?] with that glow, homie
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