License $0.00
Free download
Creative Commons license
Commercial uses of this track are NOT allowed.
Adaptations of this track are NOT allowed to be shared.
You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the artist.
Everything from hardcore hiphop to emotional poetic stuff *whateva*
I'm E, just E. Just another emcee. Born in the cold north up in Sweden...
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #3,726
Peak in subgenre #549
Author
Erik
Uploaded
July 07, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.8 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
INTRO:
NOW I'M SO SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT!
IF YOU BITCHES DON'T WANNA BELIEVE IN ME, THEN YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!
YEAH, KISS MY FUCKING ASS! KISS MYY AAAAAAAAASSSS!!!
Alot of pushed away rage in this one, boiling underneith the surface, you know.
VERSE ONE:
You never heard of these lyrics, that puts me into hysterics,
but the huge interference is that you shouldn't hear it.
You should just fear it, and maybe tear it until they perish,
but I feel this music gets to your spirit, for you to cherish.
And maybe I will inherit the title of being a menace,
so look in the mirror, and maybe you could tell me what the rent is.
I'd better show you were the tent is, if it's something you can't afford,
crash into your Honda Accord, with a four-door-Ford just because I'm bored.
I pray to the Lord that I will make through OK every day,
if something doesn't suit me, I'll turn and walk away.
Cause it's my way or the highway, that's what it is,
and if you're pissed then you could just kiss this.
CHORUS:
Kiss my ass, all muthafuckas thinking I'm wrong,
should listen to this song when I'm long gone, just.
Kiss my ass, people not believing in me,
don't know what it takes to be an MC, just.
Kiss my ass, sick of you treating me on lower level,
so I'll go down and make a pact with the devil, you could.
Kiss my ass,
just kiss my ass.
VERSE TWO:
I say thanks to my mother, for keeping me out of the gutter,
and for giving me bread 'n butter, so I can get rid of these muthafuckers.
With a cutter, drive into my skull, hope it's not too dull,
have to release some inner-demons, cause my brain is full.
And the best way to do that is to sit down by my desk,
and try to get the rest, of this shit of my mind and chest.
These wicked lyrics infest my brain and gets me so distressed,
they make my normal self seem as a fucking guest.
But sometimes I feel blessed, and even if I haven't given a fuck,
cause everyone suck, I guess I've had alotta' luck.
If I'm able to make bucks on my songs whose contents are so wrong,
when I'm rapping about people smoking bong, and women only wearing thong.
When they come and see me, please buy my CD,
I can't afford doing a commercial for the TV.
And it seems like I've got a mental-disease,
and even when I die, I will not be able to rest in peace.
Just...
CHORUS
VERSE THREE:
I consider music an escape, that's why I do these demo-tapes,
for other people to flee with me, away from all the hate.
That costantly generates, in this world that's getting raped,
I can't wait to set things straight, I don't wanna' be too late.
People overweight should meditate about what they just ate,
hoping these words will penetrate and impragnate their great faith.
In eating so much that they could hardly make it out the front-gate,
and I don't wanna see them demonstrate on how they mate.
Can't run away from my fate that's just around the corner,
thinking I warned ya, muthafuckas pull up on ya and simpley bomb ya.
Girl I wanna bone ya, but you can't comprehend what I'm rippin,
and so you're flippin, kicking, but you're no good at tricking.
Head movement resembles that of a chicken when you're licking,
swallowing or spitting when you're sippin what I'm dripping.
Kiss me where I'm shitting, after you tasted my semen and we're even,
people think of me as hethen.
They could just...
CHORUS
CHORUS
