Текст песни "Styles Of Beyond - Bleach"
Yo, swing the sword for the classic year?Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear?Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air? Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair?What's up stupid? Shoot this?One five one in the shot glass, hot flash? Banging on the drum, huh?We cause havoc down in Las Vegas? Paper trails racing Pelican Brief-cases? We outrageous, name the streets gave us? Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber? Thumbs up! another banger?Untuck the flamer, dumbfuck? It's like getting hit with a dumptruck?Brains and guts? Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff? Get you cracked up like cocaine, heat 'em up?OK, I'll let a sucka's fly once?Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch Uh, malpractice, a bang-all jam?I joust rappers and track in the radar scans Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon What's up partna, I got ya (what, what) Hope that spoken gunshots crack the pinata Slap, box, mouth of backwash? Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? Set the pace like a mustang, mashin' Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash Dropped on a blood-stained mattress Stop, you ain't got access, watch I'm'a change my asset, Ryu and Tak You little cunts in the game, you can suck my cock Lay flat on the ground don't make a peep If you want the stains out now, get the bleach Get the bleach Guess who's got the rubber gloves and the bleach? Guess who's rockin' every club, that's me Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat Guess who got the group name on top?? S.OB. got the rap thing locked Who want what, when, why, and what not Who got next up? Ryu and Tak Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip While the blood keeps gushing, relish and pink mustard, huh I'mma slam 'till I tear it to bits 'til the bell for the recess rang On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P.F. Changs Hopscotch on the corpse 'till I drop the torch And burn crews for their views that would rock with force Saying, don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon What's up y'all, we don't stall, come one, come all 'Til we drop the ball like Get the bleach, get the bleach Get the bleach, get the bleach Get the bleach ... Get the bleach (Yea) (*Phone beeping* Yo, yo, Shinoda, Shinoda from the South Dakota It's Big Ghost right here, you know what I mean? With the baking soda and the ... This, this ... yo, that ... We finished off that joint for, um, you and Lupe You know what I mean? So yo, um, hit me back, G I was tryin' to understand your rap You know what I mean? You got me, like, kinda twisted over this I want you to try to explain it Alright?)Обновить текст