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lirik lagu demigodz – demigodz

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[woman talking]
ya know what?
i’m sick of motherf-ckers talkin about my n-gg-z the demigodz
y’all just mad cuz we don’t walk around with our thumbs
in our -sses like the rest of y’all jokers…

[apathy]
you need a calvary squad to battle these godz, when apathy rocks
to even the odds, you need cops after me with gats c-cked
i’m livin proof that we’re rulin with ease
coolin with cheese, schoolin all you foolish emcees
whether talkin to a chick or poppin off at the lip
i’m always thinkin ’bout you rappers in a coffin and sh-t
scientists don’t try to doc-ment how often i spit
to estimate the average body count when squashin a click
rappers are gettin wrecked due to lack of respect
cuz y’all couldn’t get signed if you was the back of a check
it’s obvious, you little sucker motherf-ckers copy this
like my styles were files, he faked saved to floppy disk
(so why did they even try?) i haven’t got the foggiest
but i turn f-gs into punchin bags rocky hits
on some miagi sh-t, split you with karate kicks
draggin you through the pits of h-e double hockey sticks

[chorus x2]
the demigodz – will crush your click (crush your click! )
the demigodz – will f-ck your b-tch (f-ck your b-tch! )
the demigodz – don’t give a f-ck (we don’t give a f-ck! )
the demigodz – cuz your sh-t sucks (it sucks! )

[celph t-tled]
i am the feature presentation, your rhymes are just a segment
a b-tch could just look at me, and get herself pregnant
i make bustin a gat look good cuz i hold it well
in second grade i brought a live grenade to cl-ss for show-and-tell
it’s obvious there ain’t no right, go look up “crazy motherf-cker”
in the dictionary and find a picture of celph t-tled
i’m accurate when i terrorize, i am unique
f-ck around and be in a wheelchair as a paralyzed amputee
(can’t you see! ) i’m like chuck norris swingin his nunchucks
b-tch-slappin these young sl-ts, spillin guts outta you dumb f-cks
spit flames in battles, leave you cooked in ashes
illiterate son of a b-tch you couldn’t read a book of matches – f-ggot!
you know my steelo, i be bringin n-gg-z the best beats
n-gg-z’ll test me, get so shook they diagnosed for epilepsy
i spit trife when i rip mics, n-gg- i been nice
fill you up with bulletholes and play the flute witcha windpipe
slice into two pieces and you still ain’t half a man
take cover while i’m throwin rocks at you like cats in pakistan
slap you with my gat-packin backhand, you have that rap man
when my track jam, even the preacher sayin, “god d-mn!”

[chorus x2]

[apathy]
you ain’t the man shinin, you need a hand witcha rhymin
i’ll blow ya f-ckin head off like a dandelion
i jump in the arena and stand up to the lions
expand like a dna strand in man science
former old scrolls, to gold on spanish islands
pirate of the caribbean brandishing iron
incredible, my rap is like a chemical drug
thugs buzz like metal touchin electrical plugs
even skepticals accept the skill is factual proof
spit my raps through the mic and fracture the gl-ss in the booth
and when it’s time to spit, f-ck that complex sh-t
i’d rather get crunk and f-ck a project chick! (beyotch! )

[celph t-tled]
we blast cats with the artillery cannons
attached to the back of the black van me and ap’ caught damage in
brandishin weapons with anolitical tactical technicians
calculatin coordinates to guide missiles at victims
for no apparent reason, we could leave you bleedin
in a bathroom stall until the custodian comes and scrubs the walls
n-gg-z is -ssed-out like blackbeats winkin
i know you ragweeds been speakin, my tribe is like the last mohicans

[chorus x2]

[apathy (celph): singing to the beat]
i’ll take your girl – and get her in the shower
molest her with a shampoo bottle – for half an hour
you know how we do – when apathy and celph t-tled come through
your wife’s a sl-t – she better watch her stuff
(n-gg-z jockin my beats – why don’t you beat your meat?)

[woman talking]
man y’all some b-tch–ss f-ckin n-gg-z
runnin around listenin to that f-ckin soft–ss rap music
we won’t never be soft… y’all should be ashamed of y’all self
soft–ss scallywag mothef-ckers… we ’bout to clown y’all this year

[humming until fade]


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