Song picture
Loka - Left to Rot
Comment Share
License   $0.00
Free download
This is all me.
hiphop rap loka loka muthafucka lokaz
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.
Artist picture
The Cosmic Joke dressed up in a meat bag.
Song Info
Author
Loka
Uploaded
May 24, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.2 MB 56 kbps 2:55
Lyrics
"Left to Rot" I'll hold on to the bong throughout this song, and I'll keep away from all wrong shit goin' on, 'cuz I won't speak up for Man's evil deeds, so I'll smoke my weed, hope for peace to be released from North to East, brothers, can't you see? We just wanna be free, to live in harmony, I don't want no 'funny-bunnies' climbin' in our trees, placin' the 'sunny-gunny' to mah tummy, tellin' me to "Freeze!" Fuck it, sonny, just take the fuckin' money ... please! Don't wanna be runnin' away from a corny fuckin' thief, just 'cuz I don't want my head blown to pieces, Jesus; free us from disease, split up the disbelief, at least for a brief period; be the chief, show mercy through the anti-beef leaf, 'cuz if Cannabis can't handle this tangled quiz, then Man's damned faster than a fanatic's blizz, like an abstract maniac's axe, angled stiff to hit the strangled man who dangled in the mist, surely that's us, left dead beneath the stars, underneath I grit my teeth when I spit these bars. The alliance of science has a lot to do with compliance, fight the signs of times to renew the reliance, who knew of defiance when they were lookin' for spys? hookin' up a device to the spooked victim's eyes, this is the future's way of revealing a shit-kid's lies, as the rich kids tries to spit scripts aight, hits six tits 'till a bitch slits thighs, slips, trips, nice, so flip this life; shit sick wife with a picnic knife, after sixtyfive sticks the bitch's still alive, and who knew that voodoo would do twenty true screws in you, barbeque infested with tar and flu, light a cigar or two, fight over a scar you grew, just to be viewed cool by the fools at your school, bitch, you stupid too, so drink your crooked brew, 'cuz we cannot follow you into the fuckin' shit you do, like mysteries unknown, the histories are gone, your christmastree is 'on', lit by the blistering cone; your whole home's blazin' up from flames on top, your body left to rot, while The End names a stop ...
Comments
The artist currently doesn't allow comments.