Father – Awesome Jawsome Lyrics

Play this song

[Intro: Father]
Yah, ayy, ohh, ew, yuh

[Chorus: Father]
Pop me a perc and I go through her wallet
Made her drip, drip, drip like faucet
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m bossy
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m awesome
[?] awesome jawsome
We gon’ get married like Nas and Kelis
We gon’ break up just like Nas and Kelis
[?] on my legs, Nikes on my feet
You gon’ pay my motherfuckin’ feat
I’m gon’ paint her motherfuckin’ feet
We gon’ live [?]
They came a long way from hanging in trees
My bitch hair long, look at her weave
All a nigga had to do was believe
Can I have some pussy, bitch please?

[Verse 1: Father]
Can I have some time to myself? Bitch leave
Been going through some shit, can a nigga just grieve
[?] ho, that’s a new pet peeve
[?]
Chain on my neck, cocaine on my necklace
Been in LA too long, reckless
Ex-girlfriend on my checklist
I don’t ever know who the fuck I’m texting
Ew ooh, stop hitting me up
Get off my dick, get on my nuts
Hop on my dick, they be shiny, so lust
[?] my cum
Might [?], might [?] ones
Pipe her [?] my tongue
Pop her ass, I pop my gun
I already know you wanna have my son
Yuh, ayy, ayy

[Chorus: Father]
Pop me a perc and I go through her wallet
Made her drip, drip, drip like faucet
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m bossy
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m awesome
[?] awesome jawsome
We gon’ get married like Nas and Kelis
We gon’ break up just like Nas and Kelis
[?] on my legs, Nikes on my feet
You gon’ pay my motherfuckin’ feat
I’m gon’ paint her motherfuckin’ feet
We gon’ live [?]
They came a long way from hanging in trees
My bitch hair long, look at her weave
All a nigga had to do was believe
Can I have some pussy, bitch please?

[Verse 2: Zack Fox]
Can I get some pussy? I’m begging
All of my friends [?]
Shorty told me I’m [?]
Jagged edge we walk down in heaven
Don’t leave the crib without my weapon
These niggas snitch like “Ooh I’m telling”
She like moves, I show her belly
Put my dick inside her belly
White bitch she gon’ dance like Ellen
Imagine that just like John Lennon
Imagine all the bitches
Throwing that ass on me, ooh-wee
I’m impressed by how she [?]
Shoot my shot like Rasheed Wallace
Strapped up with that [?]
‘Bout to pop me a perc and go through her wallet

[Chorus: Father]
Pop me a perc and I go through her wallet
Made her drip, drip, drip like faucet
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m bossy
She let me do what I want ’cause I’m awesome
[?] awesome jawsome
We gon’ get married like Nas and Kelis
We gon’ break up just like Nas and Kelis
[?] on my legs, Nikes on my feet
You gon’ pay my motherfuckin’ feat
I’m gon’ paint her motherfuckin’ feet
We gon’ live [?]
They came a long way from hanging in trees
My bitch hair long, look at her weave
All a nigga had to do was believe
Can I have some pussy, bitch please?

Fedez – Faccio Brutto Lyrics

[Strofa 1]
Faccio brutto, ho il ferro sotto la mia tuta da ginnastica
E rime taglienti come le posate in plastica
Anche se a otto anni ho fatto un po’ di danza classica
La mamma mi diceva: “Col tutù mi sei fantastica”
Ma poi insieme ad un mio amico che lavora a Banca Intesa
Ho iniziato a fare brutto e a preparare la mia ascesa
Insieme alle mie bitches dormo con la luce accesa
Arrivo con la gang e spaccio buste della spesa

[Pre-ritornello]
Una volta al giorno lucido la Beretta
Quando non so cosa fare incendio una camionetta
Ogni rapper mi rispetta perché arrivo dalla strada
“Eh in effetti sono rapper anch’io ma io arrivo da casa”
Voglio la fama dei Beatles ma non i fan di John Lennon
Ho la marijuana dentro il doppio fondo del termos
La polizia mi ha detto che sono in stato di fermo
“Guarda che non sono un drogato, sono un ragazzo moderno, zio”

[Ritornello]
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più erba di un corso di giardinaggio
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più lame di un corso di pattinaggio sul ghiaccio

[Strofa 2]
Oggi ho ritirato almeno venti grammi di moffo
Me lo imbosco dentro le mutande gialle di SpongeBob
Spingo la mia merda e vado molto di corpo
E ad ogni live stacco a morsi la testa di Ozzy Osbourne
Ho la catenazza d’oro presa nell’uovo di pasqua
Giro coi fusilli crudi e ti chiedo se vuoi una pasta
Non esco mai di casa se non ho il mio ferro in tasca
Però prima mi sistemo un po’ i capelli con la piastra
Grido: “Poliziotti infami” ma con voce un po’ indecisa
Poi mi sente mio papà mentre si toglie la divisa
Mangio pane e malavita e pippo polvere da sparo
Ho il poster di Tupac con la faccia di Totò Cuffaro
Ho un odio represso verso tutte le persone gay
Ma poi limono con la foto del cantante dei Green Day
Quattro giorni di galera, risse ogni sabato sera
I soliti racconti finti tratti da una storia vera

[Pre-ritornello]
Una volta al giorno lucido la Beretta
Quando non so cosa fare incendio una camionetta
Ogni rapper mi rispetta perché arrivo dalla strada
“Eh in effetti sono rapper anch’io ma io arrivo da casa”
Voglio la fama dei Beatles ma non i fan di John Lennon
Ho la marijuana dentro il doppio fondo del termos
La polizia mi ha detto che sono in stato di fermo
“Guarda che non sono un drogato, sono un ragazzo moderno, zio”

[Ritornello]
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più erba di un corso di giardinaggio
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più lame di un corso di pattinaggio sul ghiaccio

[Strofa 3]
Vita nel ghetto, ma quando non smazzavo nel parchetto
Mi vestivo da Naruto alla fiera del fumetto
E non sono cambiato con l’arrivo del successo
Semplice, perché non sono stato mai me stesso
Per amore della fama ogni cosa è lecita
Prendi la tua piccola parte in questa grande recita
E se menti come gli altri non puoi farne più altrimenti
La fortuna mi ha baciato prima di lavarsi i denti

[Ritornello]
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più erba di un corso di giardinaggio
Faccio brutto, faccio brutto, faccio brutto
Ho visto più lame di un corso di pattinaggio sul ghiaccio

Young Fresh Fellows – Where The Hell Did They Go? Lyrics

Well I’m looking for Pete and Tommy
Where the hell did they go?
Well I’m looking for Pete and Tommy
Where the hell did they go?
They went into the garage with two pieces of rope

Well I can’t find Dennis Boon
Though I just saw him yesterday
No I can’t find Dennis Boon
Though I swear I just saw him yesterday
He went down to Arizona and got lost on the Lost Highway

Now I’m thinking about Larry Williams
Where has he been gone?
Yeah I’m thinking about Larry Williams
Where has he been gone?
They say the music lives on but I still wish he was alive

Now I’m looking for John Lennon
Where the hell did he go?
I’m looking for John Lennon
Where the hell did he go?
I may have never knew him but I still miss him so
Well you can say I never knew him but I still miss him so

Joyner Lucas – Zeze (Freestyle) Lyrics

[Intro]
Ahh, shit
Joyner!

[Verse]
Yo, nigga’s saying, “What a great battle”
But you about to see a fucking snake rattle
Boy, you just a pony with a pink saddle
I’m truly sorry that you stuck inside of Drake’s shadow
When are you gon’ overcome? (Huh)
When are you gon’ level up?
When are you gon’ grow another foot? (Huh)
When are you gon’ show us that you number one? (When)
And everything that you accomplished in some years about to take me just a couple months
Don’t you think I’m bluffing neither
I thought you were tougher, eager (Damn)
How you almost signed to Justin Bieber?
You look like a fuckin’ beaver (Haha)
Ten years in the game but yo’ ass still sittin’ on the fucking bleachers
Boy, you just another diva (Just another diva)
Heard yo’ grandmama kicked you out the house screaming
“Tory, we don’t fucking need you”
Why yo’ daddy up and leave you? (Why)
I guess this is how they fucking treat you
And you my puppet, you my Cousin Skeeter
This ain’t what you wanted, they been waiting for it
I’m Joyner Lucas, what the fuck you niggas take me for
(What the fuck)
I pull up in a Demon but I kill Satan for it
If you want attention Tory you gon’ have to pay me for it
All these hoes love me but you sucker niggas hate me for it
You roll up on me, catch a shot at ya Mercedes door
The bullets fly, you recline like a La-Z-Boy
All you do is cry, you a child, you my baby boy
You call yourself Tory after The Notorious Big (Yeah)
Biggie turning in his grave when he hear yo’ shit
Don’t ever think that you could ever come compare yo’ shit
Little girls and kids only ones who feel yo’ shit
I skipped the plaques on my way to a Grammy
All your records soft and sweet, niggas think that you candy
Your niggas really convinced you that you think you can scare me
And you got identity issues, niggas think you a tranny, really? (Damn)
Tory tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (Why)
I know keeping up with lies can get tiring sometimes
You not a G and deep down you wanna hide sometimes
Staring at the sunshine and start crying sometimes
Your real name is Daystar, you been dying to shine
And when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes
You make the type of tracks that had me feelin’ silent inside
Nobody take you serious, put all the violence aside
Okay, let’s talk about your plagiarism that you hate to mention (Yeah)
Or talk about the hate you giving to the greats you dissing
(Let’s talk about it)
And that writer who wrote yo’ shit still ain’t get paid on that “Don’t Die” record
You should probably go pay that nigga (Yeah, man)
And how the fuck you talk about Kendrick when he a legend (Huh)
Then go bite the nigga style on your record right at the ending
On 4AM Flex 2 minutes and 50 seconds
Sound exactly like the Art of Peer Pressure, go take a listen
You inspired by the niggas you name dropped
Catch fire in the rain, no umbrella to shelter you and no rain drops
When I seen you on Flex, I gave props
But then we found out you stole Don Q shit from the train stop
You thought you were fly ’til the plane drop
Ugly motherfucker tryna stunt in a tank top
It’s no wonder why they used to feed yo’ ass with a slingshot
You my son, this the last time I’ll give you a Ring Pop
Sit down, you on punishment
And don’t get up until you see me
And don’t even think about touching that TV
No more video games, no more phone, no more 3D
No more radio or boombox for your weak ass CD
Matter of fact, give me your chains back and everything I bought you
You a disgrace to this family and everything I taught you
I hate to say it son but you make me sick
I should’a knew you weren’t shit when you came out with a baby dick
It’s no wonder why you pay for pussy
Tory you think you slick
All you do is lounge around the house all day like a lazy prick
Shit, highly disappointed in you son, I need some answers
How come you couldn’t follow in my steps and be a dancer?
Or maybe write a book like me or be somebody’s grandpa
Instead you wanna be a fucking rapper with some hair plugs
No more rapping, give me your pen and paper
No more lying to the people on how you the biggest gangster
Now hurry up and get your juicy out the refrigerator
You going to bed at eight o’clock and not a minute later
No, I don’t wanna hear it
No, let this be a lesson
Close your mouth and go into your room like I suggested
I’m a get real Joe Jackson in a second
Matter of fact, give me your toys, I’m adding that to the collection
I just did a show and got it lit ya little nigga
And my freestyles killing your originals nigga
Couldn’t name a bitch I couldn’t get ya little nigga
You a rebound, even Scottie Pippen know nigga
You ain’t from Toronto, put that on the Bible
I put six hollows in your Ferragamo
Nigga, you from Brampton, go spin the bottle
Bitch I’m from New England, me and Brady in the El Dorado
Now come get on my level, I’m hard as metal
I bomb the ghetto, I brought the shovel
I bury all of you little ninja turtles
You Donatello, you soft as jello
You must be going off that Amaretto
It’s hard to tell ’cause you soft as pillows
You fucking midget, I call you Elmo
I throw you out a fucking car window
I step all over your Margielas, you caught feelings
Yo’ heart spinning, my bars illing
I’m Bob Dylan, I’m John Lennon, I’m authentic
Your bars running no off limits
Don’t talk business, don’t talk, listen
I’m off this so you fuck this you fuck! Nigga

[Outro]
What, nigga
Fuck out my face nigga
Ayy nigga look
We gonna get one in, pause
Let’s not, let’s not do this back and forth shit no more
I, I think we know what’s up, you know
Ha ha ha, Joyner

DJ ESCO – No Slow Money Lyrics

[Intro: Young Thug]
Thugger, Jeffrey, Hendrixx, Wizard, ah
Dripset, dripset, dripset got the whole lit, wet, lit, wet, ooh
Slime, [?]

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Slurpin’ me up
Monica Lewinsky, ooh
Massacre, massacre (massacre)
Fuck who all in it (brrr)
I fuck with the robbers (I do)
I fuck with the shotters (I fuck with the shotters)
I broke on the red dogs
Took off and didn’t stop
Yo, money stand up through the roof
And point at that shit and say Ghost (Ghost)
I’ma slime ball ’em, I’ma kill ’em and give his momma my condolences (condolences)
Yeah, my drip gone stain like hot sauce (ooh)
No red gangs like narcos (ooh)
No slow money, no turt’ talk (no, no, turt’ talk)

[Verse 1: Future]
I was just sittin’ in the Bentley (yeah)
I got some Monica Lewinsky (I got some Monica)
I’m goin’ crazy in Fendi (I’m goin’ crazy)
I cannot trap in the Hemi (I cannot trap)
I’m stickin’ the wheel like Remmy (I’m stickin’ the wheel)
I got more syrup than Denny’s (I got more syrup)
We hit the [?] with Lenux (we hit the [?])
Cookin’ the dope like a chemist
My brothers, ain’t none but some menace
Ain’t rob me a nigga in a minute
I’m a rock star, John Lennon
Got my doors up, no pretendin’
My Aventador ain’t rented
The big Lambo look extended
Racks on me, I admit it
Gold on me like Olympics
Diamond gold an Atlantic
Hottest nigga in the planet
Uzi on me and a cannon
Swangin’ through, panoramic
Got a call, major damage
Freed my dogs, more Xanax
YSL, hang with gang bangers
Hope them niggas understand me

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Slurpin’ me up
Monica Lewinsky, ooh
Massacre, massacre (massacre)
Fuck who all in it (brrr)
I fuck with the robbers (I do)
I fuck with the shotters (I fuck with the shotters)
I broke on the red dogs
Took off and didn’t stop
Yo, money stand up through the roof
And point at that shit and say Ghost (Ghost)
I’ma slime ball ’em, I’ma kill ’em and give his momma my condolences (condolences)
Yeah, my drip gone stain like hot sauce (ooh)
No red gangs like narcos (ooh)
No slow money, no turt’ talk (no, no, turt’ talk)

[Verse 2: Young Thug]
Shottas, let that shit hang like a rasta
Play with that bread and we toast you
I’m a big blood like my partner
We do not play with imposters
We don’t talk to ’em, we knock ’em off
And we gon’ kiss all your partners, yeah
We gon’ fuck over your roster, yeah
And I’m still screamin’ free Roscoe, yeah
She suck me up with a waffle, yeah
I beat it up like a boss do, yeah
Uh, don’t take it personal (no, no)
Double R, with the stars and the Wraith
Bentley trunk outside, right now

[Chorus: Young Thug]
Slurpin’ me up
Monica Lewinsky, ooh
Massacre, massacre (massacre)
Fuck who all in it (brrr)
I fuck with the robbers (I do)
I fuck with the shotters (I fuck with the shotters)
I broke on the red dogs
Took off and didn’t stop
Yo, money stand up through the roof
And point at that shit and say Ghost (Ghost)
I’ma slime ball ’em, I’ma kill ’em and give his momma my condolences (condolences)
Yeah, my drip gone stain like hot sauce (ooh)
No red gangs like narcos (ooh)
No slow money, no turt’ talk (no, no, turt’ talk)

[Outro: Future]
DJ Eskimo city