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300 years, 48 months, 15 centuries - wilcon lyrics

300 years, 48 months, 15 centuries lyrics
[intro]
“next question gentlemen
what is the one thing
the people on the other side of your street have more of than you do?”
“cars.”
“cars, your wife said they have more, more grass than you do.”
“grass, what?”
“i wouldn’t bet on that”

[part 1: 300 years]
ain’t n0body
got more grass than i do
ain’t n0body
act more crass than i do
ain’t n0body
pass more class in high school
i was like 45 michael

i was gonna go ham
whoa fam
rochambeau
gotta get my life
to a new plateau
white beard, lil’ chubby
rapping ho’, ho’ ho’
ain’t santa, dawn penn homie
no, no, no
i’m like a substitute teacher
and i demand silence
your pеrsonality needs lotion
cause it’s dry b*tch
i’ll be surrounded
by a wholе lot of fly sh*t
but it’s crazy
i don’t wanna be a pilot

old ass man immune system
need some metamucil
your ass prolly put the fossil
into fossil fuel
people say i’m getting old
(i wouldn’t bet on that)
chief keef, like 300 at 19
i’d bet on that too

used to play receiver
but i never really played
time’s going slow
and going fast
what i gotta say?

[part 2: 48 months]
yeah!
despite being so slow
a sense of urgency
out a burning building
walk like no emergency
how he rap
how he rap like that?
took me 48 months glitching
i don’t know how to act
yeah
this is how we do it right here, look

uh
ginger ale
skin pale
yard sale
made bail
made plans
ship sail
cats dogs
rain hail
tell me bout it
rowdy rebel
rabble rouser
kickin’ it
ronda rousey
never cared
nothing wows me

hot 97, like the desert degrees
i’ve gon lo hill, though post fugees
i don’t act how i’m supposed to be
and my skin look like i’ve seen a ghost or three
i’m super mario
smoking on luigi
rest in peace black mamba
and his little daughter gigi
and the rest on the chopper
on that fateful day
man i hate to say
but me rapping over songs
with the 808s
ain’t gon’ bring them back
but neither will this song
because death is whack
rest in peace triple x
and my favorite rapper mac
got like 67 pages of names
on front and back

[part 3: 15 centuries]
i feel like mars blackmon
but i’m on ur*n*s
i’m on a*list
you on abcdefghij list
i mess around with different letters
that doesn’t mean that i ok it
what do you have to say, b*tch?

i wouldn’t be surprised
if these raps would uncage us
might enrage us
if this album doesn’t make me
f*ckin’ famous

i’ve been through wildfires
blizzards, hurricanes
i experienced a thunderstorm
while flying on a plane once!

[chorus: ethel ennis & wilcon ]
love for sale
ladies and gentlemen, max crowe made this beat
appetizing young love for sale
gotta shout out the homie

[verse 2]
my fifteen centuries of fame starts now
imma be historical
that’s not a question
so there’s no way it’s rhetorical
boy your sh*t is horrible
why i got your girl
and she calling me adorable
my jacket got that drip
so much it’s pourable
i see the future
through a mothaf*ckin’ oracle
the forests are on fire
and a bunch of dead coral bro
more than all that
n0body’s got morals though
d*mn

- wilcon lyrics

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