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komodo saliva - ramson badbonez lyrics

[ramson badbonez]
so what’s the hold up?
zoning out in comas, fluffy c-ke to blow your nose up
losing my composure in a moment smack the pope up
grab the hoe another smoke up
badbonez engineering man-sized low costs
a ring-a-roses, pocket full of posies from celebrities in showbiz
anything they sold is owned and everything is coded
plus like imacs and phone chips
burning skids in all directions like a tokyo drift
[heads are dosage?], simple thinking, fickle known
questionings to others
unpredictable f-ckers
like redneck b-mp truckers
f-cking up all of corruption
morph into flames like spontaneous human combustion
there’s no fresh trust
promises that weak mc’s are waking up in cold sweats
they yellow sheets from damp and wet dreams of having slow-mo s-x
hang with smoke heads like coat pegs
forget a protest we’re gunning for the most [feds?]
set the blame, rich and wealthy dames
got me repositioning my aim
grey rays ripping their pretty picture out the frame
un-btained literature to gain
claimed they didn’t know my name
until they kissed the sh-tty stain
f-ck your line up
price i’m indonesian komodo saliva
component combined though when i live inside the [gyver?]
lighting up guys that bite b-tts
ramson badbonez with a tight clutch
f-ck the white stuff

[scratches] x2
“there’s a war outside, no man is safe…”
“what more can i say?…”
“value up quick…”
“hold up..”
“take full aim…”
“rapper in the game…”

[res one]
so what’s the wait for?
i make these fake fashionista rappers take a great pause
we came to rearrange the gameboard
so place your pieces, my feces is [beat-leeches?]
they’re preaching their street demons
who eat off the weed dealing
but pee when they see beefing
me i seek the pieces
operation light one
where coppers make your tight lungs tighter
and you ignite one so i’m high strung like pylons
buzzing with the capacity to shock a rapper snatching his
lines of high calorie
grindin’ like [mike harold?] be
i’m cooking to the core
cooking bookings for the cause
on some full heat
melting a mic into my finger tips
see i stink of piff
most of times
swinging through the trees until i broke the vines
i got a motor mind
thoughts racing, hold your lines
wars waiting over time, tryna keep my cause
on its course and f-ck a court appearance, roll ’em right
it’s fingerfood for the open types

[scratches]
“thinking its a hold up…”
“yeah your rap style’s bad enough…”

- ramson badbonez lyrics

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