Song | Man in a Suitcase |
Artist | Everthe8 |
Album | 8th the Human |
作词 : Тимур Бубеев | |
作曲 : Тимур Бубеев | |
Secret hook in every sticky hook, | |
Sneaky rappers playing on the leather flute, | |
Remind me beggars, with no attitude. | |
Petty game changers in the belly of the fatty gay, | |
Feces bangers, | |
pieces stick to dicks which then stayed on fagots teeth, | |
miss me with that coterie of codeine cocksuckers, | |
Hollering xan hustlers | |
Hiding in blue castles, | |
i’m out of this, | |
Bitch, look around. | |
better shut your stupid mouth, | |
before little hopie beat you down | |
and check this out, | |
i’m walking in the woods | |
with the body bag, | |
full of funny heads | |
and severed bunny’s tails, | |
Bite my shiny ass, | |
Call me teddy bear | |
In the Kanye West costume, | |
In that teddy bear costume, | |
In the Cornella’s cartoons. | |
I create monsters from nightmares and complexes, | |
feed em flesh, they killing my confidence, in consequence. | |
vomiting blood after vodka poisoning, | |
monstrous hangover, withdrawal and abstinence. | |
it seems like my head is big hive | |
These days I tried to kill the Man in a suitcase, | |
stupid mother****er hang himself with a bootlace, | |
To Let him rot in the ****ing tub was my mistake, | |
And if you’re reading this it’s too late, | |
It’s too drake, | |
The smell is so vile, so it hurts even third eye, | |
I had to get rid of the body back in July, | |
Dead sociopath give problems even after dead, | |
Even after mister monster had buried him, | |
It’s still there. | |
i feel it in my tummy, | |
how he’s scratching in my guts, | |
once i sleep, he try to sneak into my thoughts, | |
he’s digging tunnels in my chest, | |
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes, next, | |
digging out the window, | |
for uninvited guest, | |
It’s probably been a couple days, | |
or it’s a couple weeks, | |
since i got ****ed up like this. | |
nightmares and complexes. | |
i’m having dreams where I have to literally scream | |
myself awake. | |
shit. |
zuò cí : | |
zuò qǔ : | |
Secret hook in every sticky hook, | |
Sneaky rappers playing on the leather flute, | |
Remind me beggars, with no attitude. | |
Petty game changers in the belly of the fatty gay, | |
Feces bangers, | |
pieces stick to dicks which then stayed on fagots teeth, | |
miss me with that coterie of codeine cocksuckers, | |
Hollering xan hustlers | |
Hiding in blue castles, | |
i' m out of this, | |
Bitch, look around. | |
better shut your stupid mouth, | |
before little hopie beat you down | |
and check this out, | |
i' m walking in the woods | |
with the body bag, | |
full of funny heads | |
and severed bunny' s tails, | |
Bite my shiny ass, | |
Call me teddy bear | |
In the Kanye West costume, | |
In that teddy bear costume, | |
In the Cornella' s cartoons. | |
I create monsters from nightmares and complexes, | |
feed em flesh, they killing my confidence, in consequence. | |
vomiting blood after vodka poisoning, | |
monstrous hangover, withdrawal and abstinence. | |
it seems like my head is big hive | |
These days I tried to kill the Man in a suitcase, | |
stupid mother er hang himself with a bootlace, | |
To Let him rot in the ing tub was my mistake, | |
And if you' re reading this it' s too late, | |
It' s too drake, | |
The smell is so vile, so it hurts even third eye, | |
I had to get rid of the body back in July, | |
Dead sociopath give problems even after dead, | |
Even after mister monster had buried him, | |
It' s still there. | |
i feel it in my tummy, | |
how he' s scratching in my guts, | |
once i sleep, he try to sneak into my thoughts, | |
he' s digging tunnels in my chest, | |
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes, next, | |
digging out the window, | |
for uninvited guest, | |
It' s probably been a couple days, | |
or it' s a couple weeks, | |
since i got ed up like this. | |
nightmares and complexes. | |
i' m having dreams where I have to literally scream | |
myself awake. | |
shit. |