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lirik lagu woods’ wolves – 137 (us)

people
want to
know what
i do
write about
each day
i suppose
i just
describe
the creatures
in one’s
attic sp*ce

i don’t got a favorite style
i do what the beat beckons;
always been wary of smiles
specially from sirens;
i’ve been called bibliophile
(seeing what page reckons);
at the feast of wisdom
man, i go back for my seconds

all of the venom is not an anomaly
know it’s indicative of a disease;
i have been looking around for the comedy
midst all the filth and the pestilent fleas
oh my, had to scr*pe some people up from my floor
so i could deliver them back to their own door
funny how good liquor can eliminate the senses
couple downed shots and they’re messing up decor;
and i got a message for the housing authorities
your enforcement is so filled with big holes and deformities

i, keep the club bouncing like tigger;
fie, many don’t keep the same vigor;
sigh, little things can really get bigger
if you got a problem try to pull the f*cking trigger

listen, i don’t want to have an attitude
so i’ll try to say this without even being rude
i don’t want to be that person rejoicing in ostracization
but won’t you see the f*cking enemies accrued

please
i do not want your advice
i’m more obliged to throw my bl**dy dice
than listen to someone who’s not in the trenches
please name me a coach who instructs from the benches

said this before, happily, i’ll say it again:
if you don’t understand the truth coming out of my pen
then i do suggest you put on your reading glasses
wouldn’t understand me if i f*cking spoke molasses
listen to me
that’s not a strike to the ones who don’t get it at first
it’s a strike to the ones who drink the most and have the least of thirst
it’s a reproach of the hungry roach that tries to spoil kitchen goods
it’s a castigation of the wolves that roam within the woods

when i was younger, didn’t have that many friends
and i pushed all through my hunger so i could—my field—till
then i got older, and you know how the path bends
well the only hunger i now have is for the f*cking quill

gloom, when i came out the womb
but i made the best of my gilded tomb;
doom, at the bottom of life’s flume
fee*fi*fo*fum, giants need room

don’t need a gold chain
just want a bigger, bigger crowd
for the arcane runes that i been sprayin’;
and yes i do want brain
but i’m talking ’bout the one in head
not the one for which you’re prayin’
i, keep the club bouncing like tigger;
fie, many don’t keep the same vigor;
sigh, little things can really get bigger
if you got a problem try to pull the f*cking trigger

- 137 us

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