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lirik lagu skittles – the vo

seven, sour,
skittles in a sack
got a shorty b-tch hangin’ off my back now

cause i’m a liar that desires
more than i’ve ever required
saturated pieces and creases
i’m in a fire of eternity, fraturnity,
surely i’m only learning
of a journey, i’m yearning
on an attourney, just for curing me.

i’ve been a ghost in the game
for too long
what everybody else is doing right,
i’m doing so wrong
and i’m a little bit of a dramatic, an addict
trying to figure out why my life
is so f-cking tragic
hold on a minute, let me catch my breath
your f-cking house smells like cat p-ss
and crystal meth

buyin’ all your sh-t at abercrombie and fitch
you little b-tch
hated by a lot of the people, you’re prah a snitch
i got a question,
“do you look in your reflection and question
whether you’ve been a little cynical and lyrical?”
a miracle is that you drink a little too much pinnacle and in your f-cking cereal
a toxic new material
bacterial, lyrical, i’m feeling all/everything
that you say.

should i start with this sh-t?
get fit, take a hit
skunk with the sub in my trunk
bed in the bunk, b-tch
f-ck with the funk
i’m not even drunk b-tch.

guess i answered that question
now i got another
ask your mother
f-ck you, dumb f-cker
selling out a brother
for another
makes me wonder
what the f-ck i gotta do
hand the mic to olly g,
he’s about to wreck you.

everything is elevated
immigrated, situated
feelin’ like you mother f-ckers
talkin’ somewhat innovative
i don’t want a mother f-cker
sucking on the operator
kiling in the elevator
i’m a greater medicator
aunty sally in the cali
f-cking in the sunny valley
gonna rally in the alley
f-ck it i’m a liar i’ll be
in a bit of trouble
cause i’m trucking
in the mother f-cking vo
where the speed don’t show (oh sh-t)

friction, depiction, affliction, conviction
sixteen shots affects my diction
songs of the infinite sadness
promote drug use and a thing called badness
gladness is a feeling of pleasure and hope
to cope with the madness so you don’t mope
around, sound, asleep in the ground.

you dumb sl-t,
i hope you get hit by a car
and fired from your future job at pizza hut
i hope you meet the ghost of jeffry dahmer
he ties you up in a freezer
and eats your left nut
i hope that your world crumbles
and your stomach always has the rumbles
i hope you get framed for theft
and dropping the soap
is the only form of intimacy you have left
i hope you lose your virginity
to somebody with infected yeast
and at least i hope you hear this song
and your self esteem is decreased
the f-ck this sh-t gotta do with
the skittles t-tle and vo display?
i don’t know,
relevance about as much as your girl’s weight
doesn’t really matter cause
i’d wreck that sh-t anyway.

dope deala’, fifth of tequila
magic mushrooms are my heala’
i’m so medicated,
how did i get faded?
i’ve been skittle eatin’,
soda creamin’, blue dreamin’,
girls guzzlin’ on my s-m-n
can you hear your momma screamin?
excercising on my demons
fire breathin’
put ’em to death, hit some meth
crack cocaine gettin’ brain,
take the train home gettin’ dome
your girl’s makin’ me moan
layin’ on my back yellin’
starin’ at the stars
the vo’s here to spit them bars
we’re high on xanax, who’s next
weak -ss rappers better clear out
as we prepare for the t-tle belt.

we’ll roast you, i’m talkin traeger,
barbecue sauce, let me paint you a picture
like i’m bob ross
little bitta mountains, little bitta trees,
by now olly g got ya girl on her knees
suckin’ his d
i’m gonna sit here, smoke some trees,
shoot the breeze
screw you and your whole motha f-ckin crew
the vo’s here to give you somethin;
brand new to listen to.

- the vo

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