GAIA Unlimited
Yo, wzup, I’ma tell ya’ll a little story about me, myself and I.
Aight, I show up at the back of your house, get your lock picked/ your knob rigged. Crazy lyricist, charge ya face with dropkicks/
Give my knock fists to emcees on the stage like Rockbitch/
My lines are more widespread than cancer but I’m not tropic/
Never off topic, on folks lips like chopsticks, into hardcore hiphop shit/
blended with glock clips. Fuck supermodels, I prefer cock tricks/
with goth chicks. Killa cop clicks like Ill Bill in Non Phix/
Listen up police, we’ll release the convicts, you’re into serious conflicts/
Fuck houses, wolfs and fairytales in this mob mix/
No, we got your moms blowing the block, pigs, sucking my squad’s dicks/
Wanna battle me, you’ll flop it like poker players that got chips/ playing pot fixed. After losing... your fucking future job is/
standing in the basement of hotel snob Ritz, handling hot dish/
...In too deep like cod fish. Gimme some pot lit/
bong hits, and get me higher than Donald Trumps stock tips/
Yo, when I drop shit emcees adjust their optics/
sharpen their ears and... stop spit!/
I don’t roll with pop hicks. Straight off lists/
A loco player that got sick, now rhymin toxic/
Please get off dicks, you’re all Ryders like that caught bitch/
trying to shoplift. She’s into box flicks/
Oh, you got dissed, don’t get pissed off, you’re way off-piste/
coz I got styles like LOX riffs. Grabbing the shotgun, pumping chests like Courtney Cox’s tits/
Beef with me is bad idea like shooting up Freddie Fox’s crib or adopting Eddie Brock’s kids/
The clock’s six, gotta get back to my spot quick/
the yacht ship... You can guess I’m lots rich/
How? By standing outside Fort Knox bricks/
cutting off grids so all of you odd pricks/
you better remember this top nick or else you get shot, R.I.P/
eller om det är lättare att läsa;
Aight, I show up at the back of your house, get your lock picked, your knob rigged, crazy lyricist, charge ya face with dropkicks, give my knock fists to emcees on the stage like Rockbitch, my lines are more widespread than cancer but I’m not tropic, never off topic, on folks lips like chopsticks, into hardcore hiphop shit blended with glock clips, fuck supermodels, I prefer cock tricks with goth chicks, killa cop clicks like Ill Bill in Non Phix, listen up police, we’ll release the convicts, you’re into serious conflicts, fuck houses, wolfs and fairytales in this mob mix, no, we got your moms blowing the block, pigs, sucking my squad’s dicks, wanna battle me, you’ll flop it like poker players that got chips playing pot fixed, after losing, your fucking future job is standing in the basement of hotel snob Ritz, handling hot dish, in too deep like cod fish, gimme some pot lit, bong hits, and get me higher than Donald Trumps stock tips, yo, when I drop shit emcees adjust their optics, sharpen their ears and stop spit, I don’t roll with pop hicks, straight off lists, loco player that got sick, now rhymin toxic, please get off dicks, you’re all Ryders like that caught bitch trying to shoplift, she’s into box flicks, oh, you got dissed, don’t get pissed off, you’re way off-piste coz I got styles like LOX riffs, grabbing the shotgun, pumping chests like Courtney Cox’s tits, beef with me is bad idea like shooting up Freddie Fox’s crib or adopting Eddie Brock’s kids, the clock’s six, gotta get back to my spot quick, the yacht ship, you can guess I’m lots rich, how, by standing outside Fort Knox bricks cutting off grids so all of you odd pricks, you better remember this top nick or else you get shot, R.I.P
//Out