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smokin' indians - bass millionaire lyrics

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smokin’ indians and scalping cool kids
suppose it makes steve jobs feel f*cking stupid
inviting all you gremlins birthday party at the kremlin
russian b*tches on my d*ck when i don’t speak the language
strictly f*cking speaking, what’s a goblin to a demon
said your b*tch has nice tits, well i’ve already seen ’em
it’s topless f*cking tuesday, seven days of the week
(?) f*cking critical on a (?) body beat
you can’t even f*cking speak ’cause your mouth is sewn shut
looking at me like i’m crazy, yeah ofcourse i’m f*cking nuts
rap*rapping in my bas*m*nt at all hours of the night
and the neighbors still asking, ”is that kid alright?”
nah, nah, nah, no i don’t think so
hard in the paint though
nah, f*ck that, your b*tch goes hard with the brain though
spit hard for thе bankroll, (?) yo la tengo
why’s that kid so insane, i don’t evеn f*cking know
sick of all your brothers and your sisters
calling me a f*ggot or a motherf*cking hipster
i ain’t even mad though, ’cause if i’m that bad bro
why’s your f*cking sister bouncing her ass off of my hipbones
fishbones, give a black b*tch vanilla syndrome
cumming like icecream, always make a mess yo
sticky like a spiderweb, yo i get that spiderhead
eight different b*tches suck my d*ck inside the same bed
(the f*ck does that even mean?)

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