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

Dźwięk


Interfejs


Poziom trudności


Akcent



język interfejsu

pl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Polityka Cookie   |   Wsparcie   |   FAQ
1
zarejestruj się / zaloguj
Lyrkit

podarować

5$

Lyrkit

podarować

10$

Lyrkit

podarować

20$

Lyrkit

I/lub wesprzyj mnie w mediach społecznościowych. sieci:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Aesop Rock

Super Fluke

 

Super Fluke

(album: Bazooka Tooth - 2003)


I skunk the blood up as to numb the public interface
Before the anime corrodes I'm trying to fork the figure eights.
Hogwash etiquette, truncate long haul leverage picket.
Out built auto-bricklayers with 10 guerrilla digits.
A the Don Darko bark O beautiful pirhana gossip, cobwebs on the Kafka.
Choke up on watcher logic with a left-center field indicator gestured gently.
Smash when the 101-octane hemlock tea pumps chest to extremity.
And phenom limp it to the wicked recon.
Prowler fist up with a Bowser twist vs. America's kooky coward clips.
Pump breaks, cupcake. I melt through the father formula.
Goofus merked Gallant, the missing link was apparent.
Drugstore cowboy, hold floors and grudges, fuck the Judy piece while Elroy burlge space cakes out the cupboard.
I could kill a cockroach with only Wallabies and rug burn, pin 'em down and funnel up boric acid chuggers if stubborn.
Mash jackals. Hacks flash Bedazzlers. Capture flags and crash test happy campers.
For the typecast ponies grazing through the weekend ring alarms with bassy kicks that flip whips on the Major Deagon.
Out of dodge nauseous.(I don't feel good) Yo El, leave the keys to the Delorian with Lauren at the office.
I peak the 88 streak off with a fiery disposition and basic serotonin deficient symptoms.

[CHORUS]
Alpha uno compute. Motor mouth askew at the root.
Brick house, huff, blew the roof.
Please don't feed the bazooka tooth, evolution super fluke...

With a kiddy pool full of warm milk, Nyquil and powdered Ammbiene they found him, trying to drown sheep and count 'em.
The rowers keep rowing. Pachyderm tranq dart blowgun pressed to the nape of the neck only spent 12 seconds frozen.
Marathon eye-opener most likely misinterpreted, 'cuz one bad night before the big briefing ain't breached the surface yet.
Holler dirt merchant... echo out Brooklyn, where the women are beautiful and the vagrants piss crooked.
This is the sound of one man getting high with one hand in a forest with a tree falling alone... ya heard?
Cut rugs to it. Me and my leaky budget nickel-bribe the judges just as a beautiful goose egg motif's adorning the panel's judgment.
(Overnight Biggies) Overnight Biggies plunk quarters into an A & R Zoltar while the incubated fade collar pop folklore in effect.
Now they want to mitigate the gusto, that's like asking the cast of Watership Down to fuck slow.
Homogenized carnies.
Voodoo lullaby placebo collide zombies.
Blazing R&B sucker pop lolli fuck spoon futile cartoony maneuvers to soothe roosters.
Doctor I'm having headaches and pink slips in my locker. My agenda needs a walker. (Hey) It's better than Cats!
See a grown-ass-man decay to red worm food in house fly years while y'all stable, like all aspiring actors waiting tables.

[CHORUS]

So I line 'em up and ask 'em flat... wanna de-worm the belly of this? Orphan bloodlust or timidity?
Solidify. Widdle I Aes millipede uncivil. When Millie pulled the pistol that tore the vanilla sky across the middle.
A billion little crimson pinholes sweat on vintage quill venom developed by a fatal blues anthology.
Communities on cue bury their ostrich beaks.
Thought it was carnie mirrors 'til the cold morning stunk the stink of obsolete heroes.
Hyena for the sci-fi, God barter "non" for hyphen.
Promo charted phobia specific violence like a 50 foot Bob Barker deployed to incinerate New York, which in a way's more scary than thermonuclear war.
I got my tongue down Karma's throat. Half a dozen spy cams rigged up in blackmail science.
Swamp rats back off a destiny that fucks her clients hence the riots.
You lose, she knew about the tapes and asked for my assistance to clip the biased.
Lucky sevens buddy up for mass taxidermy. Some burn facts and secure camo to past.
I'm open bodega with ankle anvil pre-shackled out, cancel hackers backwards 'til the death tarot and rains collabo.
Hope's a broken arrow stabbing blind through the fog in the log cabin, which gathered and hasn't budged since 9/11.
Give him a couple close friends, a women in his old bed while he waits. He'll hug it all with no plans to escape.

[CHORUS]

zrobione

Czy dodałeś wszystkie nieznane słowa z tej piosenki?