candlelit (feat. cake!) - redboy lyrics
[verse 1]
coast to coast couch surfin
hole in the sock so u don’t leave the piggies roastin
you think got sumn in common cuz she got a poster from pulp fiction?
not even in the know, or with the sh*ts as i like to say
unbeknownst to her she’s got her mouth wide open, breathin out it
when she speak its like white noise, radio static
came to destroy raps and tell you bout these bandwagon b*tches
it’s just shenanigans while i’m in and out of my clear vision
if i get lucky i get some good lenses, beer goggles
this the saga of a bug with a microphonе and a water bottle
[hook]
ziggy ziggy ahh, ziggy ziggy ziggy zee
roll me up somе zaza inside of a ciggy
pour me up some wine give me a bite of that cheese
ridin with the top down
puttin my records on blowin my hair through the breeze
ziggy, ziggy, ziggy
[verse 2]
zig zaggin through the stars
i’m dustin off bars when i can’t think of em, carpe diem
o captain my captain i’m sinkin em, wishy*washy b*tches drinkin em
fish floppin on land, she suck me up with no hands
tony soprano but i’m more of a baritone with these bars
barge in with a bigger bag
i been stretched my hands so i can handle it
this sound like a candlelit dinner with a spanish broad
i can’t coddle you boy i been teachin you since the beginning
round you up like some cattle, put you in a bucket and drink it
hm, my baby’s too far to reach
sit up on my satellite while i warm up our seat
still feel a slight nervousness when we talk, it’s secretive
i feel bad but keep it discreet
keep it keep it for the skreets
[verse 3: cake!]
i don’t feel bad, b*tch
stopped tracking who i hate, it’s a long ass list
blood red stamp, get these cds packed and shipped
i just wanna stack a dollar, i need commas in that slip
at the bank so much i’m gettin tired of the lollipops
oxycotin, gettin money is my fix
u way too old and white for me to sign that f*cking contract
get that sh*t out my face and suck a, d*ck
candlelit dinner and i’m feeding off the spite
posed like carmilla, at the vigil, with the mic, it’s a sermon
makin money independent, diy, laissez*faire
ain’t no virtue mixed signals this a motherf*ckin flare
king geedorah, beast breathe fire in nylons
no tranzit, i don’t give a f*ck bout a pylon
femme fatal, wicked style n*gga my mind gone
melanin and estrogen, that’s the time that i’m on
put you p*ssies in place punk puppy, that’s my job
you gon do as i say lil boy, this a psyop
big slugs i push more pumps than a bike shop
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