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warren_budget - rap nerd shit (1)ferg (2)bada$ (3)bronsin (4)keef lyrics
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(ferg) lyrics
waiting for the day that i can smile and my grill starts sizzling…
carving out my name so i gotta stay chiseling
.. milk thistle in the blunt, make the bong whistle
..treat riddles like riffles, spit bomb missiles
headed uppp
on a medication elevator
box seat spectator..
wall street speculator
..the great salt lake legislature
b-tches automatically stair,,
like an escalator..
back to utah, met her out in spainnnnnn,,,,,,,
…get her wetter then her sweater in the rainnnnn..
she said she wanted sea food so i flew her out to maineeeee…
i said i wanted sea food so she let me chow maineeeee…
tryna write a song but my mind keeps wandering
wondering, where the time goes i’ve been squandering
fostering, all the little rappers that i’m fathering
conjuring, up another rhyme, i bin pondering
unlike bananas, you lack appeeeeeeal
fake rappers are wack for real
i’m at the end of my wits with half the sh-t that gets in
i got a list, here’s the order of my list that it’s in:
it goes
weezy, shady, j. cole, and drizzy
gza from wu tang, kendrick lamar, earl and then me
infant out in italy
enlisted in the infantry
whittling a whistle
spit writtens like a symphony
driven like hov, i ain’t talkin bout the car pool
whole car full of hoes, i ain’t talkin garden tools
pump fake, jump shot, michael jordan follow through..
98’ game 6, jazz sing chicago blues…
tryna write a song but my mind keeps wandering
wondering, where the time goes i’ve been squandering
fostering, all these other artists that i’m fathering
conjuring, up another rhyme, i been pondering
call me gg allen, when my sh-t hits the fannnn
crank shaft twisted, motion sickness sedan
trip sippin the juice, now i’m missin a tooth
no prison cell needed john wilks in the booth
bam”
—————————————
(bada$$) lyrics
rappers don’t want beef
trust me
just me
and the real black sheep
poppin in the backstreets
boi
like a track meet athlete
roll gengar in the cigar
then i haunt-her like gastly..
check
still waters run 10 deep
low fi fidelity
gotta get some weight off my chest like a double mastectomy
……i never choose the right
if its left to me..
wrote this verse with a shot-gun…
…….johnny rotten to the core
till i p-ss like stock-ton..
so i gotta spit frost-ing
till i’m hot like cross buns
love drug lozenges, lodged in my larynx
twisting like the bone swiss b-lls in my bearings..
——
apparently i’m arrogant
american embarr-ssment
got more mettle than a weapon x experiment
(kiiiiiid)
—————-
wolverine in sheep’s clothing
————
adamantium hands handle handguns
im d-mn handsome
and some
with richard branson expansion plans
finna sanction
the whole world like ayn rand’s anthem
(ugh)
—————————————————–
(bronsin) lyrics
put dat piff in dat pipe
then maneuver through the night with bat sight..
-ss white
you could live the slow or the fast life, or blow your brains out like a bag pipe
right?
nice night.. schemin on my dreams
whipped cream interior, exterior is green
jet stream beamer
this life is like a rear view mirror
all the little things are closer than they seem..
—–
wonder woman whip, peel quick like a band-aid
…get her wetter than a cascade, p-ssy in a casket
masquerade mask, top hat, black cape and a tan suede jacket…
yuuuuup
visionary
addicted to the dictionary
sick wit, i’m the sh-t, spit dysentery
l!ckin cherries, flip her on her back
mormon girls in my bed love missionary
ha
new position got a christian in my kitchen, in addition, eating fruit that is forbidden—-
speaking like a serpent now she’s losing her religion, gotta stay hidden, skeet shooting, like a clay pigeon..
ha
salt lake eskimo, off the gulf of mexico
lettuce leaves filled with irregular oregano
..laid back in atlantic archipelagos
better let it be before you let it go..
bro
————————————————
(keef) lyrics
gotta, hundred, bongs, in my pottery barn
notta. lotta. cars. that ain’t in my garage
mama. say i. got that drama. camel toes
poppin llamas. gotta wildebeest robe and alpaca pajamas
(woof)
warren do the d-mn thang
warden of the campaign
diamonds in my man-chain
pourer of the champagne
new flow, chain to cold, flue flow
brain too hugo boss to lay low
oh
dental flossin the fo’
i know that i should know
throw back to 94’
got that matt groening rap, pimpin, homer simpson “doh!”
(doh)
gotta couple bad birds
gotta couple dollarssss
caught up like a rap nerd
gotta be a scholar
rappin like a raptor
gotta be a baller
aiming on these rappers
poppin atcha collar
jack kerouac in a black cadillac
jack spratt in a snap back
abstract pineapple, five panel hat
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