Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sound


Interface


Difficulty level


Accent



interface language

en

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie policy   |   Support   |   FAQ
1
register / login
Lyrkit

donate

5$

Lyrkit

donate

10$

Lyrkit

donate

20$

Lyrkit

And/Or support me in social. networks:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Prozak

Fun N' Games

 

Fun N' Games

(album: Tales From The Sick - 2008)


Hold up, bitch, I'm holding a four fifty
You'll sure get your whole body throat sliv
With a switch blade you'll get your whole throat slit
You better watch your mouth because you know who I roll with

I'm not talking about this rap shit, I'm talking about this gat shit
When I see your soul, I'm a snatch it
Fuck around and end up inside of a casket
I'll brace them like Jason Voorhees with a hatchet

Some people think I need some help, but I'm way past it
Locked in a padded cell, screaming with a straight jacket
I'm haunted by several spirits of dead poets
I think I'm Edgar Allen Poe, but I don't know it

So don't quote it, I'm not sure who even wrote it
At three A.M. my hands become possessed, I can't control it
It writes murder confessions from past times
And subliminal messages that I hide inside my rhymes

Hey man, why you talking so tough
No, for real, you be playing too much
And it's all fun and games until somebody goes nuts
Until somebody gets stuck with my blade in they guts

Did I fail to mention, I'm manic depressive, obsessive compulsive
Psychotic man that craves attention with a Smith and Wesson
Hit your chest and I'm hoping you learned your lesson
Grab your vest and better count your blessings

Because we're mid western, bitch you're in a western
They call me John Wayne, shoot them up like Jesse James
Insane in the brain, like my homies Cypress Hill
Drugged out, thugged out, pop some pills, cock the still

Shit, you want to ask me if this glock is real
With just one pull of this trigger you're in hell and now you're out of here
You're whole existence just disappeared
Like Nostradamus I promise the end is near

I thought it sounded just like comets through out the hemisphere
It makes you vomit like gin and tonic or everclear
Some people think I'm psychotic for talking to the mirror
But I blame it on the narcotics that put me here

Hey man, why you talking so tough
No, for real, you be playing too much
And it's all fun and games until somebody goes nuts
Until somebody gets stuck with my blade in they guts

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?