lirik lagu the hospice crew - stitch ya lips
[verse 1]
too much talk lacking prior thought, the wack unlatch their [?]
[?] words then wonder why they’re caught
to walk a mile in my shoes is no small feat
it’s all sweet to have your opinion, just keep it locked
where it belongs, that way, you’ll stay away from harm’s reach
’cause anger’s best harnessed when communicated through palm speech
each time the newest gossip’s given, i giggle
’cause the scene’s a small pond where people like to cause ripples
and little waves become tidal in an instant
chinese whispers always lead to fits that leave imprints
simple things amuse simple minds
but simple minds get knocked around in simple heads all the time
it’s typical of toys to come equipped with lacking packaging
thinking they got the right to talk sh~t because they rap or sing
they cling on to the hope that what’s spoken’s taken as a joke
when provoken, entertainment, t~~th might end up broken
[verse 2]
rumours amount from hounds [?] born losers
as if they were babies receiving aids polluted transfusions
broken through [?] move in quick
with more comebacks than national lampoon fl!cks
it can be likened to a reoccurring nightmare
that might scare when you pinch yourself and still i’m right there
eyes glaring, f~ck it, if you got a better rep than me
because you ain’t nothin’ except a letter next to t
just in, i’m breakin’ stories so face the news
my crew doesn’t need alcohol to make your boos
we’re keeping you stressing [?] like weed ingestions
style’s so hot, the heat threatens peach complexions
as i call out marks like an end of lease inspection
spring up on wrong c~nts beyond a yeast infection
need a suggestion, seek police protection
we’ll be the ones needing to beat out a confession
[verse 3: sesta]
it’s flatterin’ how when my back turns you chat
but it’s like pullin’ out on ~n~l, it comes back
i got a smile to my face and a f~ckin’ knife in my back
and they keep tellin’ me it’s war, don’t wanna strike back
but i ain’t bustin’ up my hands
knuckles on [?] f~ckers, that’s checkers, he handles scuffles
don’t hand out the truth then we hand back
your t~~th, stitch up your lips, learn hand speech
communicate with your snake mate
by day, break you [?] get the same fate
ayy, mate, hospice and oars
was bound to happen like you walkin’ in bar forward
b~tton pushed down, sucker, what now?
[?] f~cker put down
fly straight when i’m speakin’ the truth
so if you question yourself then i’m speakin’ to you
[scratches]
“our version of small talk is [?]”
“talk about your business keep your thoughts in your head”
“stitch your lips like refugees that refuse to be fed”
“our version of small talk is [?]”
“talk about your business keep your thoughts in your head”
“stitch your lips like refugees that refuse to be fed”
[verse 4: trials]
yeah, it’s d~day for “he say”, “she say” sh~t
see your lips quiver quicker than a carnivore deliverin’
i stitch ’em up, just another notch
fresh from the bottleshop, two crews rarer than an honest cop
i’m sick of dealin’ with these backstabbin’ f~ckheads
whose rumours spread worse than a pair of sl~ts’ legs
quit pennin’ your plots to hospice
already told you that you’re gonna get god
so if my sentiment’s lost on tracks, then take a note of it
stitch up the lips, talkin’ sh~t and if they stick, then you’ll choke of it
f~ck your b~tch and i’ma give my critics front row tickets
see if they can survive my stage dive or
shut your jaw ’cause oars are still raw like
givin’ a mother a stillborn while it’s still warm
in the vocal booth, known to throw a joke or two
but speak when you’re spoken to or leave here with a broken tooth
[verse 5]
[?] to many, won’t rest until i’ve settled every [?]
choppin’ water drop heavy like cement boots
’cause mercilessly these men move
to represent bent crews, hundred percent proof
ain’t sweatin’ the revenue
we’re still ready to start vendettas if they don’t let us through
[?] curse and bring hurt
and leave the sound boy buried in the reverb
never seen worse than this case scenario
to fakers who hardly know run the drill like army folk
carved in stone, enscripted in bitumen
tearin’ strips off a simpleton, stitch their lips with ’em
inflict worse than tongue lashin’ on a gum flappin’ punk yappin’
actin’ as if it won’t happen, blacken
[?] reputations for trying to test the patience
the slightest step this way and entirely decimated, what
[verse 6]
i get vengeful [?]
[?] no nice gestures, suit your trap [?]
the yappin’ don’t suit ya, we clash, snap and gang up
attack and stir us like angry sweatshop workers
get sewn up on an old tailored benchtop
for propaganda, your face wrapped in cloth bandaging
i’m outlandish, i play the field like landmines
and hide from the cameras
backstage extras are all props
writing sarcastic captions in raw banned chatrooms, i snapshot
like [?] sell your lens
in a cash converter queue for half of the cost due
you can call us opposition, drip crimson lipstick
speechless as infants, we the bigger picture
two crews that movin’ like honing missiles
at the fl!ck of a play switch
rescue crews, assume brace position
true carriers, car victims to safe positions and abort mission
the recordings are guinessed
hospice crew, funkoars, reporting a stitch up
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