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Annons

Sleepo

Karlskrona

Bli medlem

maj 2012

juni 2012

april

2010

Sleepo

David

And now I’m speaking on behalf of my past life,

A fast life, slow death protected by a flashlight,

Boarding up the doors, I don’t want to see his face,

I’m forcing out the storm telling it to leave this place,

It’s a ghost town, desolate and broke down,

Sold out shows for a skeleton that’s coked out,

Pour another brown liquor flavored memory,

Burnt bridge diaries with suicidal tendencies,

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It's a burgundy bath, everybody get turned into ash
Being evil just something I made my personal task
The G36 put you in surgery fast
Everybody die regardless who first or who last
Death almost got me twice but he mercifully passed
I'll take your face off without using surgical masks
I wouldn't call it an ego but I'm certainly asked
This isn't the Desert Eagle but it certainly smash
If I don't get money from rhyming that's a fateful day
I might have to take it back to the kitchen like Rachel Ray
I don't put no work in with bitches, I'm trying to scrape today
Anywhere in my environment is not the place to play
If I'm hungry in need of food I'll pull a skully down
I don't fuck with workers, I'm gunning whoever run the town
I got enough clips with me to spit a hundred rounds
I'm the father of Christ and y'all are just the son of clowns
I don't think that y'all can fuck with Pak but let's see
I'm a have this fucking Lama looking like Jet Li
Everybody who is anybody respects me
I'll have you bleeding out your back like it's a jet ski

Everybody is Kung fu fighting, Your mind becomes fast as lightning Although the future is a little bit frightening(a little bit frighting) It's the book of your life that you're writing
(gå inte i kung fu, utan Judo)

Even God turned his back on you, homie, you're dead
Just a fragment of your former possibilities and aspirations
Peckerwood b-boy in the white man's stance
Where I come from, son, the wolves don't dance
They stand with their fists and talk shit like this
Y'all don't want drama, y'all don't want static
You fiend like crack addicts, comeback's automatic
Got a douce-douce in my boot holdin' five
Got a razor in the other one in case you survive
I rep the Gaza Strip, the hunger strike
Cousin, bite on your lip, do what you like
We ain't playin' no games, you ain't honky-honk
When the cats with the guns pop the trunks and dump
And the pistols thump and the bodies slump
Goin' for Jihad, can't wait to see God
A child of the city so my attitude's shitty
The livest type bomber out for pure drama
Period, comma, P.S. FUCK YOUR MOMMA.

I never had that much to say as a young kid,
Caught up in a broken social scene doing dumb shit,
Running wild as a solitary stepping stone,
Something out of a movie we hadn’t left alone,
And I could see it as it gained strength,
So then I left and put my feet upon the pavement,
It probably led to this feeling of my confinement,
No less appealing then stealing from my retirement,
And at that point I could only learn to let go,
Set goals itching for a moment to impress those,
Individual images of imprisonment,
Send ‘em in for a minute but no more visitors,
I need to call it in before it passes me,
It’s feeding off the limbs, but doing it so naturally,
I’ll fight it till I physically cannot walk,
Blast off into the night, a hostage standoff.

maj 2012

juni 2012

Sleepo

David

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