CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Cardio
You have no idea how much I hate all of you right now
Every single one of you
Yeah
Alright, listen up everybody, listen up please
We've got a lot of work to do
We don't have much time
f**k me it's cold
So let's get started, please
Sounds of the DJ Frosty
Chapsville motherb*t*hes
Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in there"
B-B-Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in there"
Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in--"
So whyn't you come and face me like a man? b*t*h
Dabbla pull the fabric apart to the last stitch
You might just catch a passing remark when I start switching
You little fanny farts will get dashed in a dark ditch
In a spasm of large... fits
Extra sensory
wishes somebody would steal my identity
(Who the f**k are you?)
It's not the way it's meant to be
Incidentally, we been blowing up fundamentally
You'll never compromise my artistic integrity
So you can kindly go f**k yourself and don't mention me
(f**k you)
Hope you choke on your own diplomacy
Nah, I'm glad that we've spoken about this openly
Holy crackamoly, we stacking [?] the pony
Smoking on that killer
Spill a bit of liquor for my homie
Don Piper, motherf**ker
DJ Frosty
Hashtag Chapsville
Chapsville Tennessee
Michigan, Detroit, Illinois, Kansas, Dakota, Iowa
(England)
Illinois
Paranoid, delusional, schizophrenic
Starter pistol at the roof of the mouth about to end it
On a Tuesday
Mix the acid with a dash of desmond
And learnt more than I could ever from a dodgy reverend
When I emerge have the floors swept and the urns out
Took a purge on the doorstep of your bird's house
(Eurgh)
Don't ever f**king try and judge me
Without doing a day's graft in your life, probably
Without finishing one thing that you try properly
And I ain't even started with making you sick and tired of me
Get used to my bad breath
And count your blessings over what little you have left
And stop mildling over the middle of my verse
And start putting in the work of your status and sad rep
Your peen, last seen flying in the lotus
With a semi and a remi and a pair of white loafers
I don't know
What I do, is it art?
I don't know... what it is
I don't know, I think it's all crap really
Total bullsh*t
Seriously, it's depressing as hell
I don't know if I'm a genius
I think you know, and I know, what it is that I do
I'm a f**king dancing squirrel
I'm no artist, I'm a chimp
Anyway, anyway
Anyway anyway
Every single one of you
Yeah
Alright, listen up everybody, listen up please
We've got a lot of work to do
We don't have much time
f**k me it's cold
So let's get started, please
Sounds of the DJ Frosty
Chapsville motherb*t*hes
Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in there"
B-B-Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in there"
Banging on the doors of insanity
Screaming through the letterbox
"I know you're f**king in--"
So whyn't you come and face me like a man? b*t*h
Dabbla pull the fabric apart to the last stitch
You might just catch a passing remark when I start switching
You little fanny farts will get dashed in a dark ditch
In a spasm of large... fits
Extra sensory
wishes somebody would steal my identity
(Who the f**k are you?)
It's not the way it's meant to be
Incidentally, we been blowing up fundamentally
You'll never compromise my artistic integrity
So you can kindly go f**k yourself and don't mention me
(f**k you)
Hope you choke on your own diplomacy
Nah, I'm glad that we've spoken about this openly
Holy crackamoly, we stacking [?] the pony
Smoking on that killer
Spill a bit of liquor for my homie
Don Piper, motherf**ker
DJ Frosty
Hashtag Chapsville
Chapsville Tennessee
Michigan, Detroit, Illinois, Kansas, Dakota, Iowa
(England)
Illinois
Paranoid, delusional, schizophrenic
Starter pistol at the roof of the mouth about to end it
On a Tuesday
Mix the acid with a dash of desmond
And learnt more than I could ever from a dodgy reverend
When I emerge have the floors swept and the urns out
Took a purge on the doorstep of your bird's house
(Eurgh)
Don't ever f**king try and judge me
Without doing a day's graft in your life, probably
Without finishing one thing that you try properly
And I ain't even started with making you sick and tired of me
Get used to my bad breath
And count your blessings over what little you have left
And stop mildling over the middle of my verse
And start putting in the work of your status and sad rep
Your peen, last seen flying in the lotus
With a semi and a remi and a pair of white loafers
I don't know
What I do, is it art?
I don't know... what it is
I don't know, I think it's all crap really
Total bullsh*t
Seriously, it's depressing as hell
I don't know if I'm a genius
I think you know, and I know, what it is that I do
I'm a f**king dancing squirrel
I'm no artist, I'm a chimp
Anyway, anyway
Anyway anyway
