[Intro]
Its Gutter Music
Yeah
J-dean
6 times for ya
[Verse 1: Godemis]
What the fuck you want from me dawg?
Want me to compliment your chain?
And notice how you’re stuntin’ when you’re skating on them thangs?
And notice how you’re stuntin’ when you’re hoppin’ out the range?
And use that shitty style where every rhyme and words the same
I’m sicker then you suckers off of half a line of 'caine
I’m here to chain your body to the tracks to guide the train
To do away with all that girly rap inside your brain
You rapping for the chickens like you’re only out for change
I’m bound to get a coke out of the machine without the change
And break you like a fifty-dollar bill without the change
I kept the pattern simple so it’s seepin’ in your brain
But my pattern's like the weather if you peep it, it'll change
I am fucked
Swam the English Channel in handcuffs
And rode the Orient express with both of my hands up
This ain’t about whoever ain’t bussin’, but whose missing
So I pack a butcher knife to stick into you stool pigeons
You claim you murder me, with some caliber tool spitting
And I hate to have to show you which one of us fools kidding
I throw you off the balcony screamin' out “Good Riddance”
Ripping average masterpieces, you come in with good written
Huh!
Like that
Its Gutter Music
Yeah
J-dean
6 times for ya
[Verse 1: Godemis]
What the fuck you want from me dawg?
Want me to compliment your chain?
And notice how you’re stuntin’ when you’re skating on them thangs?
And notice how you’re stuntin’ when you’re hoppin’ out the range?
And use that shitty style where every rhyme and words the same
I’m sicker then you suckers off of half a line of 'caine
I’m here to chain your body to the tracks to guide the train
To do away with all that girly rap inside your brain
You rapping for the chickens like you’re only out for change
I’m bound to get a coke out of the machine without the change
And break you like a fifty-dollar bill without the change
I kept the pattern simple so it’s seepin’ in your brain
But my pattern's like the weather if you peep it, it'll change
I am fucked
Swam the English Channel in handcuffs
And rode the Orient express with both of my hands up
This ain’t about whoever ain’t bussin’, but whose missing
So I pack a butcher knife to stick into you stool pigeons
You claim you murder me, with some caliber tool spitting
And I hate to have to show you which one of us fools kidding
I throw you off the balcony screamin' out “Good Riddance”
Ripping average masterpieces, you come in with good written
Huh!
Like that
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