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lirik lagu robbin/stealin – depressive tongue posse

[sharxxx]

i been blowin’ smoke clouds out every which-a-way
i been on the town engagin’ in some f-ckin’ pistol play
drive-by on the chick-fil-a, every single day
blade to the teller like, ‘you know that i ain’t finta pay!’
you be lookin’ wack in that wind suit ripaway
all yo singin’s flat, like you gotta call the triple a
all my zig’s fat like my red eyes indicate
might be zonin’ out but i don’t listen to you anyway
you hear my whip comin’? i got the system thumpin
rappin’ in a megaphone, i got some lil kids runnin’
drivin’ thru the kindergarten, playa let’s get into somethin’
let’s make ‘em quit their frontin’, you won’t be forgettin’ nothin’
i got my weapon gunnin’, so you gettin’ touched, fool
then i’m touchin’ hammer cuz n0body tell me what to do
think i’ve had enough of you, all up in my opp
this is the last stuff that we do, so listen to the whole cd
addin’ to the murder rate, shoot you in the vertebrate
take you out the world, now you sittin’ at the pearly gates
while i’m in my truck, steady burnin’ on the purple haze
lock you in the trunk, i’ma dump you in a dirty place
throw the bl–dy shirt away, wipe off all the prints
put the knife up on the curb and say, ‘no evidence!’
boy, i’m lookin’ thru the scope, and you lookin’ pretty big
and i’m full of all this dope, but i’m still gon’ split yo wig
smokin’ evil spices out the bone of an elephant
blowin’ out a ghost that’ll show you to the essence and
holdin’ out a toast, with the blood of a lepre-
can you take the full force when the posse come to step again?
i don’t give a f-ck in the slightest, i don’t even mind this
i just wanted to find out how to rewind this
and travel my -ss back in time, b-tch, to murder the first of our kind
this is not my idea of fun, and all of these people are dumb
i’m sleepin’ on top of my gun, cuz i was taught never to run
so i’m hangin’ on
i ain’t heard a track didn’t make me wanna gun down
90’s f-ckin’ rap all a playa ever bumpin’ now
boy froot c-ssette, cuz my homie keep it underground
all you other lemons just be crankin’ out the dumbest sounds
it’s a f-ckin’ shame
oh well

goin’ on a cap peelin’ (posse robbin’ and we stealin’)

[boy froot]

pop it like a switch blade, water from the everglades
just like tony hawk, i’m goin’ beast on the pro skate
f-ck the police, ‘bout to put they body in the grave
better get a priest, cuz this demon use me as a slave
and i don’t even hear what the f-ck you say
drinkin’ on a beer, and if you don’t wanna push yo luck today
i suggest you f-ckin’ stay out my god d-mn way
posse let the blood spray, blunts in the ash tray
smoke ‘em all at once, then we sniffin’ on a bag of ‘yay
bangin’ on a gun and we makin’ peeled caps lay
boy froot the creature creepin’ in ya living room
smokin’ on the reefer, while i’m playin’ midway’s ‘doom,’
it’s the resurrection of evil that is illegal
and my bullets they are lethal, like my paintings on an easel
realtree camo with the hood up
spark the blunt fast, put the wood up
i’ma beat ya -ss cuz i could-uh
lay you down fast, shouldn’t a stood up
b-tch i told you that i run this sh-t and i don’t want you f-ckin’ wit
another dude that don’t get it cuz i know that he jus’ gon’ split
posse ridin’ slow, getting’ all the b-tches
f-ck what you know, boy i leave ya -ss in st-tches
n i bet you sh-t yo britches, when i’m standin’ in yo kitchen
on another planet dissin’ b-tches, now i’m on a mission

my mission is to k!ll yall bustas

- depressive tongue posse

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