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lirik lagu slaine - broken toys

[verse 1: slaine]
let’s get into it, i’ve heard enough noise
this game i’m in is inundated with all these f-ckbois
bottom feeders and imitators
but i been in a state of graces
innovative, creative, disintegrated and destroy
any limit weighting to diving and demonstrating
cause i been in hibernation
your face in the menace waiting
an obvious inner sate, this probably a mental patient
sliding my pen, engraving pain while your pencil’s tracing
my inclination is anger, i’m dangerous
and my brain stole the angel dust that will change you
tangled up in the strangle
thanks to paink!lls and tranquils
that dangle me from my ankles
they mangle, handcuff, and hang you
and bang your brain till it’s painful
i ain’t no saint and no angel
no i just came with the kangol
a new album and angle
that you can bang in the wrangles
a good feeling to have when they unchain you like django
besides how much can one pancreas handle
so i just tuck the stuffing back into my f-cking gut
and come strutting back in this b-tch
with a couple st-tches and b-ttons
it’s holding me back together
cause i was ditched in the rubbish
with the other broken toys disposed by a vicious public

[hook: slaine]
around and round we go, back on this carousel
in this land of broken toys, clout chasing and fairytales
can’t believe in anything when nothing is really real
here in this bizarro world, but we stay creative
around and round we go, back on this carousel
in this land of broken toys, clout chasing and fairytales
everything under the sun, this’ll been domed
but still we stay creative in the midst of this bizarro world

[verse 2: apathy]
rappers out my radius
every blip with the radar so dedicated with cadence
so erratic these rappers would rather scr-p with the wrath of this grizzly bear
than to battle this b-st-rd who back like lazarus
spitting the most blasphemous
speaks with religious p-ssages
buckle up all my p-ssengers
going to h-ll and back in this handbasket
this pack with radioactive hazardous
hasn’t it been a fabulous tour through the devil’s p-ssages
for the p-ssies p-ssing out, here’s some pistols, p-ss ’em out
do the world a favor, get your brains to sh-t the shrapnel out
smack ’em out, rough ’em up, they prolly hyperventilating
the type to write they devastate the mic like a featherweight
gl-ss joes, -ssh0l-s, fronting like they capos
till they build apartments and find they bodies with back holes
they murder rising rap foes, you fertilize when gr-ss grows
yours truly, connitic-nts and m-ss holes

[verse 3: locksmith]
let’s see i’m tryna keep my patience
and pacing, painting my way out of this tainted grotto
but it ain’t just the way you rap, it’s your basic model
i model and mode it, my style is of older omens
i open some open letter for those endeavors
but i won’t forget the
malcolms and martins, the marcus garvey’s
the marching hall on the month full of autumn
all the arbitrary kids in front of that brownstone
everyone now jazz musician
an artist who arguably wouldn’t pop today
cause nowadays it’s all about commercial cadences
clout chasing the case and chase that cheven is pray up
in crystal lake, your pistols fake, everything you spit is baked
the lure in your listeners listening, as i st-tch the brake
inside the soldier fabric, the fabrications
the aggregations of algorithms
purchase with cold cash, blatant
basically you been boring me half to death
you could pay for your popularity but never my respect

- lirik lagu slaine

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