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lirik lagu mic stand 2 – pop disaster

[verse 1: pop disaster]
up in the street i see ‘em
they panic, needa’ dip
only way to live, drip
something gotta give
hundreds gotta grip
homie kick flipped
on the cold get sick
b-tch, get kicked
i got me some checks
rockin’ on some chucks
grab ’em by the neck
step on heads, crush
stacked on last rush
system malfunction
faint line with paint brush
and a switch blade puncture
rich with a mismatched sock and
b-tch they gon’ listen to me, no soft
on a leash to the list with the summer (flavour)
track list, ain’t release it, bummer (later)
something like returning a favor
off these beats and doodles that i made up
i’m not a debater
talk to me or bástian, it’s a fade
talking over while we educate ’em
no credit, it’s cash
bodies is stacked
mobbing in black
put in the work, and then lock-in the lab
hang in the back
throat and she gag, it’s facts
no cap, it’s matte
the paint job and instrument, pack
got it, i bought it and sold it in practically
flipped it for double finesse
man, why would i ever wan’ settle for less?
give it a rest
feel like i got kanye west gl-sses
or wearing a mesh
i’m walking a mess
if i’m so foul where the ref?
y’all seem so pressed when i laugh
squeaking on me like some rats
brush ’em off me, let some p-ss
just cause i don’t mean to brag
if i just don’t release ‘carefully’
‘offspring’ then i won’t get arrested
que?

[verse 2: bástian]
muh’ f-ckers is nasty, pull up we blastin’
up in the ghetto muh’ f-ckers be trappin’
up in the city muh’ f-ckers be cl-ssy
distant reality, silicone valley
bless, rest
this is american history x
bless, rest
my mind is f-cked and i gotta confess
bless, rest
i’ma just flex
blood stains in my shirt, on the train with a smirk
no blame on the fame, cobain when i’m hurt
switch lanes and i swerve through the rain and the dirt
like blaine in the game, coltrane with the fur
no shame when i blurt, they saying i’m the worst
quit playin’ with my name, bird man with the skrr
got k’s in the purse, i stay with the work
get off my case when i’m racin’ the he-rs-
i don’t be sellin’ my soul
i be countin’ all this dough
i be f-ckin’ on your hoe
i be turnin’ up the show
you talkin’ bread, i’m talking loaves
you talkin’ birds, i’m talking doves
this sh-t on fire, drop and roll
on my neck is h-lla gold
i just f-cked, i’m wearing robe
stick and move i’m on the road, i keep on adding h-lla o’s
i keep on adding h-lla o’s
i keep on adding h-lla o’s
eyes rolled back no questions asked, nah
nails all black impressions fast
got that ma with precious -ss
cl-ss of 69 i f-ckin’ p-ssed

- pop disaster

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