lirik lagu golden era records - critical mass
[sample]
and i said that this was for real hip hop
this wasn’t for the girls who like that starships bullsh-t
and [?] pop song i ever heard was bullsh-t
i took a lot of heat from people – f-ck ’em
a lot of people didn’t think i should have the right to criticise another rapper
f-ck ’em
[verse 1: trials]
said i put that in your
melon like a third of a bottle of a smirnoff
we hit the hard road and missed the f-cking turnoff
i burn off plenty fat, dig and do any wack
plenty stacks of penny stocks, haters gonna hate and helicopters
helicopter fat jack and weed, jelly is petroleum
did it then i dutched the house out like nepalians
sodium, benzos, deep in the friendzone
picked it up then blew it like you do with new nintendos
pick the traffic up, loud as f-ck, bourbon in my [?] cup
i pull my pants down and missed my f-ckin’ jacket [?]
sick of rappers not acting like they sucking this one
then why the f-ck they so concerned when i was getting income?
dumb as jeffery wallan daniels and you said you don’t (nope)
even the stiffest piece of sh-t will still float
roach another leaf in palm tree then chop it in a soup bowl
and stick my whole fist inside your loophole
[chorus: trials]
that’s what i’m gonna do (whaddup?) that’s what i’m gonna do
(what the f-ck is up?) that’s what i’m gonna do (do)
you ain’t from around ’round here
(what’s up then? son, son)
you ain’t from around ’round here
you ain’t from around ’round here
you ain’t from around ’round here (so don’t)
swear they coming ’round ’round here (ha ha)
[verse 2: k21]
it’s always trouble when i
hang with dan, little arrogant like mr sandilands
while ownin’ taxi grams till i’m paranoid like a sabbath band
trash your man on a track with an avalanche of savage rants
while wearing baggy pants like i’m about to do the hammer dance
let’s have a chant blindfolded, play caravan without no hands
and after drink to weed we don’t know how to stand, smoking powder lamb
i’m out of dances to do, have a chance to practise it
i bring the rap [?] in pakistan
i’m back again, f-ck it, keep the sandpaper rugged
while the ram raid your luggage, ram–ram raid your luggage
steal your rider too and tell your band mates to suck it
’cause i’d rather be d-mn broke than build a fan base with rubbish
and the ge bring a tv and my clan stays above ’em
while we serenade the public with the landscape of ruckus
while we rupture your subject, that ain’t done until we’ve done it properly
throwing eggs at your f-ckin’ copy while i’m b-mpin’ godfrey
motherf-cker
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