a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

replicator (of futurology) – boombapbox كلمات اغاني

[verse 1]
twenty-eight tracks, no filler
black cat, dark room dropping in the middle of the summer
‘cause even when i step in the sunshine and depressed
impress you with vague consonants and vowels that i stressed, yes
songs about life, death, hatred and love
and how they’re interconnected because the end is never done
i’ll never be finished spittin’ ‘cause i never begun
these verses spin around my head and i just pick up one and run with it
dumb lyrics about this pointless existence
i swear when i’m dead, my corpse’ll still fidget
calculated loose digits with the logic of a fundamentalist
pennin’ sh-t with a [?] interest, blood from a broken penmanship
bazooka tooth blues, head in the sky, staring off at my shoelaces
who makes these statements who to say is not vacant
judge lest not ye be judged
i find [?] fun in running circles ‘round these c-nts
it’s just words, man, don’t get offended, pay attention
you may just find a pleasant sentiment hidden in the crevice of where the beat drops and then the next one hits
or maybe not but f-ck it, i’d say that it’s worth the trip
figure if i write enough, some good has to come of it
i don’t say funny sh-t or advocate for nothing yet
perhaps we’ll get there soon, in the meantime, just enjoy the journey
not looking for money so much as recognition of my mediocrity
f-ck honesty and modesty, i just want someone to see [?] of me but i love ya, ha
not an artist, i’m insane
scribbling words on the side of my padded walls everyday
what else can i say but life’s one h-ll of a drug?
administered via society, roll it up and take a puff
the media is an amphetamine, and that’s worrying
‘cause i was already quite an adrenalized person
now i’m paralyzed on the couch bench and on-rolling news coverage
i started agreeing with pundits and violently berating the public
wake up, sheeple, ‘cause i need y’all to set my alarm
i would do it myself, but i can’t be -rs-d
i prefer mundane fantasies to unsurprising truths
the slightest hint of my implication will have my head in this noose
you’re shook? me too
i spent a decade or so tryna perfect being a halfway crook

[verse 2]
it goes boom, boom, boom
but no one’s there to hear
so does it make a sound if it doesn’t reach your ear? sh-t
i’ve got several albums sitting here gathering dust
and that’s not counting the stuff that futurology’s done
and i know what you’re thinking—another struggling artist
but no, i write for catharsis, could give a f-ck if it’s gettin’ traction
my inaction’s more to do with over-saturation of a market already based on making vague statements
i worry c-nts wouldn’t know good music if it made them deaf
more inclined to pine for cliches that have been done to death
strung up and vexed by constant critiques nitpicking my patience
i oughta drop my back catalog and still remain nameless
so much attention gets paid these days to vacant minded layaways
paid for the lack of challenges made to -ssist the corrupt in the brains
give me a break, is it heart-wrenching
here’s a pen, don’t come back ’til you’ve written something with sentiment
it’s a h-llish testament to how lazy these writers are
that every track’s just about how good you are at spitting bars
we get it, man, you’re hard, now where’s the subject matter?
the novelty of your dapper patter wears off after the first song in your album
so that doesn’t bode well for the next ten
protect your neck and your penchant for rhyming well’s h-llbent
personally, hope i never get discovered
when you call my bluff and smoke or puff outward and you won’t be left with nothing
and i find it funny, the andy kaufman of hip-hop
and we [?] hard ’til someone shines a spotlight and asks for a singsong
[?], your compliments are poison that i’ve been awkwardly avoiding for fear of its destruction
i write this song for nothing, a cosmic joker in the pack
[?] a laugh with the monkey rapping on my back
saddle up a pad, let me tear through every page at a breathtaking pace just to throw it all away
either you’re practicing on a daily or lost in parable of fames
crafted ’til it’s painful or obsessed with a stage-name
better go hay, mate, your twitter handle’s callin’ ya
[?] stalemate but i figured it wouldn’t bother you
‘cause if the f-cked up world we live in doesn’t inspire you to write something, then nothing’s getting you out of the rut you’re stuck in
so f-ck it, i’ll just end the verse here
and plug the name of some album that i’ve got coming out next year

black cat, dark room, motherf-cker
black cat, dark dark room, motherf-cker
black cat, dark room, motherf-cker
black cat, dark dark dark room, motherf-cker

- replicator of futurology

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

اهم الاغاني لهذا الاسبوع