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lirik lagu sopa divertida con seis sabores – sketch tha cataclysm

[verse]
this sh-t is giggles dumplings, serving scribbles through buffering
net signals and function-less windows, just dismal
just give me a bufferin, head wiggles through suffering, to bless
midgets and munchkins and giants digging for something
of interest to munch on, when finished they get a luncheon
and dinner with fixings depicting a grip of fitting subjects
the script has reach a junction, spread and lifting in function
with effort; written in subtext is lessons k!lling -ssumptions
idle’s kicking the bucket, this written’s lifting the musket
your idols admit they love it and fishing for links to dub it
they get it and covet, lend as leverage at functions
for winning i’m in the running but living as if its nothing
. . . maybe i’m bluffing or. . . maybe my bunt is
as big as you swinging toughest, no kidding, wishing to touch this
living above it, missing a budget
gripping the summit in spitting kissing and cuddling
and friggin’ friction in f-cking, i’m pretty gifted, the something
you’re missings the something i’m gripping within my mittens cousin
a mitten is what a glove is, glove refers to the hand
waiting for me to plummet when i’m the first in command
working, first with a plan, thirsting, verses demand
searching for purpose in life, burdens disperse when they land
surface fresh, purchased, pressed, nervous less, just purging
pon a beat lurk in a jam. . . d-mn
sh-t. . . f-ck it. . . see it. . . hear it its pungent
no smelling; its in abundance, i’m talking about the funk sh-t
i’m dope and yes redundant, i’m dope. . don’t give f-ck
push a quote or push em up at the show, just give it up
peace to cove, peace to the public that knows that when in the dungeon
or attic i’ll make a masterpiece crafted out of a jungian
note, clear the throat, cough up a lung, when i take the plunge
i just float, i’m never crashing, it’s magic, just watch it happen
(whoa) listening to sabores, know that it just unravels
the poems written then just rapped on the track, fitted i just snap ’til its
broke, giving into p-ssion, i zone, zip it and then just fasten it
closed, middling detractors just laughing as if i’m wack when they know
i’m opulate, dominant
lips and esophagus, rift with the opposite
no. you can not get close. when i rock my shows or i drop my prose just
know both that i’m living this and never quitting no doubts or misgivings
alone or when i’m with someone, i’m cold ’til my shifts all done
put my heart in my breath til i split my lungs parting with the pressure and i’m flicking my tongue
let it go. . . fingers unraveling. . . this wind that i travel in
lifts this gift that i’m babbling of gab and lips in a package
to cliffs and then back again. . . the difference is added in
addition subtracted. . . my math’s division by fractions and
now you’re distracted by all this sh-t that i’ve factored in
one minute i’m rapping then i’m saying sh-t from pythagorus
but son it don’t matter my thinking cap has just mastered
the use of cavils to capture you cats and cash it in
with captions of c-ssius, i’m crafting to caskets
abstract and en m-sse avoiding caveats
and barriers, roads closed, my fashion trends
to be the sh-t from my lips, hips, to my shadows ends

- sketch tha cataclysm

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