lirik lagu mathias kruse - filter tips
[verse 1: mathias kruse]
i could talk about my shoes. but i would rather kick them off
you’re big and soft like the life and stomach tissues of ricky ross
thin as floss, my bones crumble to a powder
that you snort and overdose cause on the mic i come with power
get devoured in hours like water baking in with flour
if water was supernatural, my head would bring the showers
i’m the plane hitting your twin towers
when i shine, my solar power attacks with meteor showers
whiskey sour. the taste in your mouth is ours
you cowards deserve your head in the dirt with worms that’ll scour
asking how or why or who or where or what the f-ck
i never write on paper cause my words are bound to tear it up
i don’t need you to elaborate, i hear enough
i kick the sh-t regardless of whether or not my pants are cuffed
i laugh when you f-ggots rap and you’re acting tough
if talent is a virtue, get out. cause you really lack the stuff
had a sack to puff, i rolled it up, and smoked it all
then went to work in the booth like public plumbers in overalls
runnin through what keeps you held together like “rover” falls
instead of telling you to cut the sh-t, i grip a motor saw
your head is full of gr-ss so i’mma mow the lawn
you aim to shoot and shoot to k!ll, but either way you hold it wrong
farewell so long, i’mma be dead and gone
by the time your sk!lls are real. i’m immortal. you get it dawg?
the way i rock a set is like i’m snorting roxicets
with lots of army vets from iraq that just heard osamas dead
but there’s a terrorist that lies inside obama’s head
that said that since we’re greedy and sh-t, we’re in a lot of debt
that’s like saying that me plus my whole team
ran up in your house and stole everything. so you owe me
it’s like they steal from us, and then we have to pay em for it
then they ruin our lives if we say that we just can’t afford it
that’s extortion by definition. so voice
your thoughts and choices and don’t let the volcano inside be dormant
hope that enjoyed my rant. cause i adored it
now i’m givin gas to living m-ss, the pedal. i’mma floor it
smoking flowers, my lungs think i’m a florist
if you wanna judge my choices, then b-tch, you know where the door is
it’s showtime. there’s no cinemax
didn’t ask to take this city but i’ll never give it back
life’s a b-tch, and if you’re eating. then the b-tch is fat
k!ll a track, skin the corpse, find the producer, give it back
give the -ss of the baseline a little smack
mad libs, filter tips, rollin papers, i riddle that
gimme a pen and a paper, and i’ll scribble facts
heart and mind are what’ll make you rich, and b-tch you’re middle cl-ss
kiss my -ss, my f-nny needs your mouth to pucker up
if your life’s a b-tch, then i’m a pimp. i’m bout to f-ck her up
puffin power with my girl, inhaling b-ttercups
i’m back in love with smoking, i’m done with all of the other stuff
when i’m famous, i’mma buy some sh-t my mother loves
and then maybe i’ll be the son she wanted. not the runner up
not in shape for sh-t talking, my mouth don’t run enough
but everything i say shows more crack than plumber b-tts
me and my determination, no one f-cks with us
try to stomach my fundamentals, it’s fun to punch a gut
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