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

Звук


Интерфейс


Уровень сложности


Акцент



язык интерфейса

ru

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
зарегистрироваться / войти
Lyrkit

донат

5$

Lyrkit

донат

10$

Lyrkit

донат

20$

Lyrkit

Или поддержи меня в соц. сетях:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
House Of Pain

What's That Smell

 

What's That Smell

(альбом: Truth Crushed To Earth Shall Rise Again - 1996)


Baby, because
(I say, "Lord, have mercy")
This is for all you dirty bitches out there
Suck up on this motherfucking nuts
(I say, "Lord, have mercy")

Say stop! Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down
I'm everlasting, forever on a roll
I'm rocking to the boat, steaming gray matter tone

I ain't saying I'm God but you can graft this
Chances are if I'm a star, I'd be Johnny Mathis
On some smooth shit, I'd be gaming all the honeys
Hitting Hugh Hefner with his Playboy Bunnies

Check the Sunday funnies, I'd be reading Doonesbury
See me after dark, love, shit be getting scary
I'll freak you like Carrie on the night of the prom
Let's keep it cool and calm, I'll start stroking your palm

Work my way up your arm, start kissing your ear
Maybe, licking your lips, then pulling your hair
Yeah, I freak the back spasm to get the orgasm
And if my legs cramp, girl, I lick that stamp
I got it sewn love, so you ain't got no worries
Hold up, wait a second, my vision's getting blurry

Stop, hey, what's that smell
Someone laced dust all up in my L
Bitches start sweating once the pockets swell
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells

Periodic measures to say my rhymes
Too much of this dope need growth-type slow
Off a poet's tree, let me blow my leaves
Shake off my roots and pull up my sleeves

Break a branchling wist stick
Lyrics for the mystical
Yo fancy, shake your chancy
Our transystem is torn MCs
I hymn-zen, then I'm casualies

Pot smoke-seeds, relativities
Seize it, I be on every first ability
Of chaos, a higher form of infinity
Getting me virtually supreme ID

Reflectors and tackers
At which my faster phrased words
Super-lax, break raps and MCs jump off wacks
Revolves and steers and still sees time stilt
I work for Real Bill Divine, it's lyrical chill

I say, "Stop", hey, what's that smell?
Someone laced dust all up in my L
Bitches start sweating when the pockets swell
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells

Stop, hey, what's that smell?
Someone laced dust all up in my L
Bitches start sweating when the pockets swell
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells

готово

Ты добавил себе все незнакомые слова из этой песни?