lirik lagu scorched earth policy – skip dover
you must have a death wish to go against me, ‘cause that’s a kamikaze plot
tried to block the karate chop, i hit him with three shots, he dropped
don’t end up with the same fate that tommy got
pull the tommy gun out and dumb out, r.i.p. mazaradi fox
i’m way up, still my sweatsuit is russell brand
surrounded by all this snow like russell brand
i know lohan gave you the upper hand
time to become a man, rubber bands to cover bands
they’re loving the jams, nothing but classics
burning, dumping out ash, furniture’s covered in plastic
and for my last trick, with one hand, roll it up in a glass tip
france trips, i tip the maid extra and stretch her out
here’s a french tip, trip, weapons out
leave my weed on the dresser before you leave on a stretcher
all i breathe in is pressure, if you need, i’ll connect you
guess they need the director, when i leave, they’re playing checkers now
when you’re the p*wn you take the pendant and the chain
when you’re the king you take the credit and the blame
spend your life hoping they remember your name
the pieces go in the same box at the end of the game, it’s all the same sh*t
waitlist long for an apology
right your wrongs, prolong the dichotomy
could call it war, thats the wrong terminology
burn the sh*t to the ground, this is my scorched earth policy
all i see is fake g.i. joe’s making ig threats trying to figure out where i’ll be next
i move like socom with these tecs, department of defense
so calm, i seem stressed? hold on, let me check
i got my pockets so right, ain’t no seams left
came from standing outside, so cold you could see your breath
take good look before you can’t, bought some land
let’s toast to growth, uncorking the grand cru
i supplied what they l*st for as demand grew
but your life could get cut short with a bad crew
your mans caught a few and caught the hands too
sh*t could turn to bloodsport ‘till my hands blue
blue beams, i knew since i was copping blue dream
dreams grew to reality, really starts to confuse things
i had to make it, you’re stupid to think i’m wasting my mind
calculated my movements, one sp*ce at a time
when you’re the p*wn you take the pendant and the chain
when you’re the king you take the credit and the blame
spend your life hoping they remember your name
the pieces go in the same box at the end of the game, it’s all the same sh*t
waitlist long for an apology
right your wrongs, prolong the dichotomy
could call it war, thats the wrong terminology
burn the sh*t to the ground, this is my scorched earth policy
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