lirik lagu kid abortion – dick muscle
[intro]
crack!
(d-mn, you good?)
ah, yeah, i think i just pulled a muscle
(oh sh-t, which muscle?)
a d-ck muscle!
[verse 1]
- from f-cking your b-tch
diamonds cold, i think that i’m sick
my ice on my neck look pacific
atlantic ocean on my wrist
i hop on the track, my flow is so venomous
y’all talking and doing that extra sh-t
download my new track, i know you gon’ mess with it
hopped in the ghost, now need an exorcist
(what?) exorcist (what?)
i switched from the ghost to the mas’i (skrrt!)
the mas’i, fake gucci belt on me (what?)
gucci belt on me, wrist wet like a tsunami (splash!)
to take me out, you gonna need a whole army (bop! bop! bop!…)
sloppy-toppy, d-mn, b-tch, suck on my meat
knock-off designer hand bag, and i kept the receipt (huh?)
underrated as sh-t, n0body f-cking with me (nah)
you girl knows the abc but her favorite letter is d (uh!)
[chorus]
i need some lobster head
all the opps are dead
f-ck all the cops and feds
i need some ostrich neck
[verse 2]
i need a girl with a giraffe neck that can fit three-point-five inches
sleeping on me, you dreaming, i swear to god, you need some pinches
i got ho, ho, ho, hoes, b-tch, you would think that it’s christmas (hoes!)
i got ho, ho, ho, hoes but i still respect women (yeah!)
oh, oh, oh sh-t, i had to spit the heat one time (did!)
i… eat the beat and then i digest it like it’s lunch time
d-ck game- f-cking m-ssive (f-ck!)
a nerdy b-tch- nutted on her gl-sses
you move slow, i call you ‘mol-sses’
you’d think i worked at the bakery
i get the bread the fastest, the fastest (yeah!)
bad b-tch half plastic, she built like a nintendo wii
run up on me, get your -ss kicked, your -ss kicked (huh?)
or, sh-t, maybe l’ll just run away (bop! bop! bop!…)
my bars are so hot, i got the heat like a summer day, uh (ooh!)
my diamonds all colors like a g-y parade (oh, ew!)
get it? like, their flag? and, sh-t, i’m on a paper chase, uh
my song in your playlist? that is a saving grace
i feel like superman, the way that i save the day (whoosh!)
like superman, but all my s’s got two lines in the
middle
designer outfit, mismatched, like a bag of skittles
that’s all i gotta say, my bars got deep meaning (what?)
your girl in my crib and she’s sucking on my weenie (uh!)
[spoken outro]
d-mn, man, i’m lyrical as f-ck
n0body can compare to the, uh…
to the level of… lyricism that i bring to the table
my bars are… god-sent
amen
(-fart-)
(bop! bop! bop!…)
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