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lirik lagu 2 woke 4 coke – chris lowe

c to the lowe
my flow’s kinda slow
but my heart gets quick
if i sniff up on the blow

ha, jokes, don’t ever touch snow
the devil’s dandruff is no good my bro
don’t need the sh*t, am always on go mode
just ate a thesaurus, not a word i don’t know
my ex told me; am a grower, not a shower
n if you’re a grass, then i’m a lawnmower!

i could have a jack high card
n still go all in
keep on going, am jeremy corbyn
kier took me whip, but didn’t get that far
now am the new secretary of state for bars

the journalists, all shudder, when i speak
am woker than the buddha, after a line of beak
don’t need to chat wass mate
cause ya see, me, i just let the music speak

(hook)

i’ve no god, i’ve no master
i’ve no pesto, just pasta
toke weed, but am no rasta
just a heathen with open chakras
x2

i wanna white fender strat
cause boy they look clean
n i wanna magic hat, just like roy keane
n your bird were keen
she asked me for my number
what was i to do mate?
look at her bumper!
(aww man she’s peng!)

she’s had enough of you
you’re all fire n thunder
ya drink too much, n you always…
chunder…

don’t watch love island
am too high brow
score another a goal
if the ref dissallows
am starting eleven, no carabao
n am strictly roots, like athletic bilibao

went to the east, i met chairman mao
had a herbel tea, n then i said ciao
smoked a quick j, in curcauo
asked alan bout the dao
n i agreed to my vow
freestyle anytime, i don’t choke
i can do it on a wet n windy night in…
stoke

listen up you lot, cause you best believe
i will cut you so fine, you won’t even bleed
got eagle vision, like assassin’s creed
me n ezio, will have you down on ya knees
my hoods up, but it ain’t a cloak
it’s a north face
the perfect gear
to slash that look of your face
don’t reply to texts i ain’t got time
i sniff rhymes, n write lines

what did the schizophrenic say
to the deaf man?
bro…, have you heard yourself lately?

matey, that didn’t even make sense
light would bend round you
you’re so f*cking dense

truth being told, am a bit of a lefty
my name’s on a list
mi5 are tryna chef me
spy cops, are parked outside my backyard
while i moon walk on my grass like
jesse lingard!
but don’t chat cr*p, if ya on snap maps
i’ll visit your home, n snap ya jaw bone
i’ll pull it off n tuck it, under ya nose
you’ve f*cked it, if i catch you alone…

i’ll pull you off, your settee
n then turn on, your tv
n get your mum, to cook me tea
n use your bog, for a
sh*t

am major fiend, but a never smoke crack
kicked it in the head after the fourth heart attack
last week, i fell over cause i’m so laid back
samsara’s a b*tch, n then you come back…

oh nah, not again man. that’s like my seven millionth
rebirth i swear down… f*cks sake

- chris lowe

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