lirik lagu sketch the bottom feeder – perverses
all you c-cky boujee hookers rockin’ gucci thinkin’ you’re swaggin’
most of you got a sloppy coochie, stinkin’ and saggin’
when i’m pickin’ up hoes, they be stickin’ up nose
probly ‘cause i drink ‘till i’m gaggin’
f-ck it, sweatin’ ‘cause b-tches ain’t worth the pain
if they never let you hit, like a perfect game
you could say i act like a jerk to dames, but when i’m gettin’ head her neck and head should stay intact
if she doesn’t use teeth when she’s lickin’ the d
hittin’ for free, the only kind of paper hoochies are gettin’ from me is looseleaf
‘cause it’s sad givin’ money to hoes, cheddar turns into blue cheese
after earnin’ a few g’s i don’t wanna give it to a b-tch, if you can’t pay rent, live in a ditch
i’ll even help you pick one out
i’ll drive around, you’re officially moved in when i kick you out
my b-tch uses both of her hands to grab my whole p-n-s with cold fingers from sippin’ on some old english
when i’m eatin’ p-ssy i tie the tubes with my tongue, so i don’t have to worry about a rubber when i c-m
every night i’m tryna get naked with thai wh-r-s
if i can’t afford ‘em i’m takin’ it by fours
my body chose to f-ck with these naughty hoes
my meat is gettin’ wet in between her buns, like sloppy joes
you better hang up your women i slay b-tches
i’ll take your shawty/shotty, bust and skeet like clay pigeons
f-ck a temptress, i used to pimp tricks
i sold them to old men with limp d-cks
if fetch is the game, i’ll throw these b-tches a bone
sketch is the name, looks like i’m spendin’ christmas alone
‘cause i shoot the gift, you stupid b-tch
i don’t have the hugest d-ck, but it’s big enough to rip off your uterus
i was in a g-ngb-ng with a couple transvest-tes, then me and my boys would run a train on a fleshlight
disgusting s-x acts, i tend to find the painful pleasin’
i’ll give her ex-lax before i shove the -n-l beads in
tellin’ b-tches i’m the best you can get
forcin’ twin sisters to kiss on some insestuous sh-t
i’m a sc-mbag, i’ll sh-g a hag that’s on the rag
if she nags that she’s not gettin’ off, she’s toe-tagged
i’m much more than a pr-ck, i’m the meanest
give it a touch, wh-r-, get to lickin’ the p-n-s
what’s all the fuss for? put my d-ck in between this
leg and the other, look at me, i’m beggin’ to f-ck her
if i pick ya up, know that i’m quick to f-ck
i’m lookin’ for a b-tch that’s lookin’ for a d-ck to suck
after bustin’ a nut, i’ll light a fat cigar
and burn the b-tches skin with it before i smack the broad
i’m in the back of the bar, drinking jack in a jar, plannin’ my attack from afar
watchin’ and creapin’ on thick chicks while they’re doin’ a dance
plottin’ and schemin’ to get my fishstick in their tuna cans
too long i’ve been starin’ at b-tches
for a few songs, grind on my c-ck so hard you put a tear in your britches
ruin your pants, and make me j-zz in mine
i’d f-ck anything especially if she isn’t fine
b-tches tend to find, me creepy
‘cause i always ask if me and colley can give ‘em d.p
i’m gettin’ head in the booth and i’m rappin’ flows
i’ve never been able to bust a nut unless i’m slappin’ hoes
when it comes to graham screwin’ a sl-t, i’ve got three fingers in her clam and two in her b-tt
starin’ at ‘em with a zany morbid scowl
my d-ck abuses the bushy colon like chaney, george, and powell
since i f-cked your girl i’ve been scratchin’ constant
now she wants to tell me she has aids, i hope i have a magic johnson
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