lirik lagu life sucks – del the funky homosapien & tame one
[intro: del the funky h-m-sapien]
man let me get some sh-t up off my chest
you know stress is the number one k!ller of black men
so imma take off my coat so i can get up outta here
with a fresh coat of paint ya dig?
some body work, it’s gon’ be like
i just came out the auto detail shop
that’s right, ride out, leave all this bird sh-t for the bird brains
i know you guys know the feeling cuz
it’s funky out here right about now for real homie
just was five murders out here in oakland over the weekend
in a 24 hour period
[verse 1: del the funky h-m-sapien]
hey, i’m sick of n-gg-s, i’m sick of c–ns
i’m sick of tunes, half-written every rap they have is bitten
sick of complaints, sick of movements that don’t be moving
another name for [?] it’s an illusion
sick of hoes shamming they hoe programming
via emotional warfare, acquisition through s-x
sick of checking broads that be snitching to get you vexed
sick of painstakingly taking the night out of a twist
sick of holding back on n-gg-s
i don’t even know how i resist
sick of bourgeois politics
sick of trying to keep up with where all my dollars went
sick in the head, i’m sick of all of this
but i ain’t calling it quits
i just spit a sick flow that clip close
like a sickle through a fields of weeds
you feel you’re elite? you is weak
don’t even know that the root is the street
and you other rappers [?] stupid to me
with the same con and misinformed fans
wanna place the blame on everybody eatin’
money ain’t the root of evil fool you need it
it’s just power and the individual
and how he choose to treat it
[hook: tame one]
life sucks, reality blows, responsibility is k!llin’ me
all i wanna to do is rock and do shows
a lotta hoes think they sh-t don’t stink
but as long as [?] drinking this pink, we gon’ link (x2)
[verse 2: tame one]
how is you not knowin’ about my spot blowin’
you critics can get the d-ck like my b-tton fly popped open
i’m hopin’ you choke f-ggot and your man be next, g-y
feeling some kind of way without a gag reflex, hey!
follow up and swallow everything i got you to taste
i’m high as you are, fubar like the bottle was laced
i’m going in like it’s a curfew to murk you and half your circle
all i want is a blunt and a bag of purple
cuz when i lift the piff to my lips to take a hit
it’s like f-ck you as i cause ruffles like the potato chip
it’s the way i say my sh-t, setting me apart from others
no feelings, i get biz, cold chillin’ like warner brothers
so what part of the game is this?
this ain’t a rap this a tape to diss, in fact you’s a gansta b-tch
you’s a bag with a rag needing a pad, cuz of your flow
that bullsh-t’ll just get you snuck at the show
you ain’t been felt since the b-lls under your pop spilt
not built for that sh-t, we can both spit but i k!lled that sh-t
and i feel this sh-t, i dealt with it, now you felt it, sh-t
[hook]
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