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lirik lagu candyland – the thought

[intro]
blaqknoiz
flvko beats
yo… aghhhh

[hook]
noses out for pockets in the city, man
doses, overstocking for the pity, man, gotta understand
they call it candyland
ay, they call it candyland
roses getting stomped for pennies, kush straight from afghanistan
catch ’em dropping pasa-panties, rolling in a caravan
they call it candyland
ay, they call it candyland

[verse]
they call it candyland, it ain’t no chance or circ-mstance
the drugs been planted, in pants and empty hands, then a ban
the coca in the system, man, how pasa-dangerous get ran (pasadena!)
by elders with addictions and the correct-colored vans (what?)
fake rappers sell to fans, dealing at their shows
trappers hooked on xan’s, think they healing with the blow
got no feeling in their nose, got no sense of smell
no wonder when the tide’s turning, they find it hard to tell (where you go?)
they down the well, no l-ssie
they here to sell? no p-ssing
they might as well get raspy
go ahead and yell, we laughing (hahaha)
ain’t scared of cells, but acting
go ring that bell, be trashy (ding ding)
straight to h-ll, gaddafi
it ain’t hard to tell, like nasty nas
these microeconomics, between candy and p-ssy (what?)
i don’t mean to drop the topic, but these dandies be pushy
they’re standing in the club lines, in old town cause they cushy
thinking they king candy but they really just some bookies

[bridge]
you ain’t sh-t but cold leftovers
you still snort that rc cola (-sniff sniff sniff-)
you got three flip motorola’s (ring ring!)
but no friends and no diploma (ha!)
you ain’t sh-t but used car salesmen
you still drink to heal your ailments
you use hoes to make your payments (cha-ching!)
but still, pay to f-ck or trading
cocaina for v-g-n- (what?!)
make your piece and whisk your beaters (-whisk whisk whisk-)
candyland got bottom-feeders
so thank god you here as leader! (thank god!)

[verse]
sicken for fun
quicken the push of the thumb
b-tches get kicked to the curb for the funds
thickest should run, fittest should gun
this is the one! lit as the sun!
captain of capping the nuns
witness get k!lled on the word for the stun
mixing the business with sickness
and itching to twitch with the click of a pistol
like chick… bah!
pardon the rant
guilty as sinning i chant
banshee get buried and covered in ants
this is the stance! c-ke in my pants
bogus as chance, wilting and dying my plants
envious, staring at lovers that dance
trance of the fancy with hands that ain’t ashy
the plans of the flashy and bad with the stash (say what?)
spending the cash
getting like half what you asked
still gotta flash, and be fast when you dash
lenders gon’ bash, vendors can crash
leonard the rat!
send him a pack
and then it depends on when he’s attending the clash
satchel the ax
engine at maximum, trends when we adding ’em
white horse and saddle ’em
bringing ’em back

[bridge]
cause you ain’t sh-t but cold leftovers
you still snort that rc cola
you got three flip motorola’s
but no friends and no diploma
cocaina for v-g-n-
make your piece and whisk your beaters
candyland got bottom-feeders
so thank god you here as leader!

- the thought

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