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Death to the sex
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"Here's a little cookie...for all the dick riders"
hiphop rap underground nyc flip la p plus uncle scam clique
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It's never too late to waste a little time. This is mastabeta.
Honest rap. Anybody in a pink jumpsuit need not apply, unless of course you are man enough to wear it without checking with your friends every ten minutes. ------------------------------------------------- "A fine collection of bad dubs. I'm just glad it exists." -EPL
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #10,747
Peak in subgenre #840
Author
Mastabeta aka E.Lugo
Rights
1999 Zombiehead/Goodrobot
Uploaded
March 14, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
My thought is a weapon in itself...I'm VX...and bad for your health like sex...Projects and suburbs alike deserve me to rock mics...I'm worse than two hot dykes who don't like...men at all...watch me take a Demurrol and kick it...Hotties be a lottery, got me addicted to the ticket...Wicked in the ways of Wanderlust and other such...habits of the habitat...I smell like a battle rap...touch my darkside and I'll pop like a bottlecap...yeah, I get high, but I be lower than a mousetrap cuz it seems like I always have to fight to get my house back... act like you know cuz you know you might like it...let it touch your brain and excite it...you love it cuz I write it...then your ass better crawl inside it...cuz you're nothing but a Baskin Robbins nigga - colorful as shit...can't even trip cuz it might stain your kicks and your Hilfiger...so like Tigger we can bounce to this...only if bounce means sittin' home with slit wrists for Christmas..when pets attack!!...My two cats are strapped with two macs and a mousetrap...WHO RAPS LIKE THIS??...My mics where the light is...so here's a little cookie for all the dick biters... I'm a ghost that floats into the night I write this...draggin' chains...and so high that I be eyeless...my iris' contract to make it all a little clearer...easier to understand and hold a little dearer...I hear a lot of voices...make a lot of bad choices...live a horror flick with a lot of ill noises...Rats, Cadillacs, and other abstracts tax my ability to achieve that "inner relax"...X marks the spot where "EFROC-A-LOT" dropped...the homemade tape that everybody wants to cop...Bartender leave the bottle by my pack of cigarettes...WOMEN KILL MY HEAD...DEATH TO THE SEX!...Ex-girlfriends to the next...I'll suck a tit...she said it tastes like shit and spit all over it...ain't no shiny happy people in this shit, I get ass, but it's worthless...spit verses and eclipse...darkness...I beckon to the heartless...narcs is: watchin' each step, carryin' a big stick I protect my neck...and just to get a rep niggas talk shit, but need to sit down and learn something..."trouble in the club's" just frontin'...without back up...and not doin' shit when the devil acts up...I'm propane...acid rain effects are hazardous...DEATH TO THE SEX OF THE GLAMOROUS...Enamored with: Techs and 9 shots...small change like dime spots...when in jail, waterbeds turn to cots...it's only bad dreams for the remainder...and maybe one of these songs that I write is gonna change you...
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