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any belches - russian roulette lyrics

the rapping in me has gave you sh*lls and in an arabian tupper ware i see your underwear and i don’t stare the farther you step
the longer the stepping stones stretch and i rap battle these dudes like a snake rattle them blues clues go boo hooh as i arrest
representatives a second ghost takes a trip to the cellar with white ocean wine echos down the radio tubе like my times news rolеs
any belches bright lights for a night light raking in the cash for all of us to rap for russian roulette bart simple and a pimp i
am since this sentence did keep the bonfire open season you’re in all galore as the rapping gets i and his guinea pet with a pig
smirky grin want to get a hound to truck that bad mouth and inside his towel mite never rap as well as a russian roulette can kick
a soda can when these fastened them audiences to the chairlift on the cities trolley no gulf carting now the weak are a summoned with
my bands width a serra toga the trust fund as slushed in tuned in the governor must assess i have the membership however i really
need access to get in and i’m k!lling them to get to the rapper modes just now i plan have the river raft river up in once upon
i give a little bit of laugh when the rest of my seasoning hurts your bowels i improve your ball sacs because i’m wearing some
girls moccasins that rap is rapping now a hundred on the picnic table tabs to bet wendy’s chicken sandwiches want me to eat them
up my adorable chicken vulture the next treble or a jive and by me will blair on the funs and means for a jumper cables guys went
tunnel*out because russian mite find out before wendy belches rhyming though fair to me lifts a dose of dulify and i’m gullible
rappers task goo in the sn*tch i rammed into your rear when i had a snapple at your park that rabbi left inbeded the credit card debit
a new band as of now thick and bulky i clean she*hulk in the shower age went i cleaned all of you with my fancy pants and rapping
in a times fables two my plan to live a hundred years giving new york pudding made out of my blood plasma the golden age of raps
brain child has russian roulette heaving out some thunder chardonnay ain’t in for a boring gain getting honed in from the u.k
and i play rap as a name and i play the games video to picture me words are a certain horrific kind tatts have a few bubbles that
dry*out behind these rap bars i’m rapping and i’m rapping but the furlough and baskets need truemen as a talking guest show like
egg mcman what i rap is numb b*tt plastic there bunched up my gun tied while in connoisseurs menu options opinionated by mentions i don’t
sign autographs waking learning and dreaming from the effects is how i’m writing my life’s being a set how there a gift bag wasn’t made
by me i can only work with etching and peeling foreign objects to form any belches trying forward so in me writing shall make me tiny
rap scores as matched pouring effects i load a raw seaweed sushi roll that can take my listeners anywhere meant me and these words are
worst than boxes at a q rate them are crates a soul with d’n’b deranges the battlers i know i’m a slap happy rap artist love rational
after me and the rest of russia with learning curb can be dumb like me getting dumpt on by the gutters runoff splashed my fire has
some creation story too when did the rest of the students die off from skin cancer after they gave their hands some fire

- russian roulette lyrics

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