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Correct The Last Huzzah! Lyrics
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Artists: D
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Das Racist
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Correct The Last Huzzah!
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Breast milk, you made my day Know we had to do a remix right Take that, take that Drunk driving on a Wednesday With three bitches in an MPV Half a gallon of Georgie Porgie And cranberry: that's the P.O.P Love passion, a recipe for terror We mix them shits together and then we have an orgy We live this life forever We never gonna stop, you with us, lemme hear you scream [Verse 1: Despot] One vodka soda poured over 4-leaf clovers He be the luckiest fuck this side of the rainbow you know of He seen the blood and the guts and the gang signs get thrown up He seen the fight and the fuss for that same pot of gold But he hold the dice and he roll em and if he lose, it's a hold up Plus got them sticks and them stones that’ll bust them thin brittle bones up Won’t switch his pitch or his tone up for no one bitch, he a grown up The kid is so "so what" they didn't think he would show up Slow up, happy to be here, muster up three cheers Hip-hip, who are you; hear, hear Huzzah sis-boombah, cue the fanfare Go fetch the man of the year, a goddamn chair He's half there, ditched the other half willy-nilly Buss how he hit the town, cocked back, slapping it silly Don't beat him while he down off whatever his favorite swill be I ain't a killa but don't kill me Beer and whiskey shots, weirder than 50 Pac, Biggie, or Ricky Ross I'm Jiggy, I'm Vicky Vasquez Don't love the game, shot clocking above the game Ballers and shotcallers be calling me Bob Costas I'm Immortal Technique: I'm Obnoxious Hella-people telling me to stop it Probably be jealous cause we sell it at a profit Keenan and Kellin' it and it's awesome I'm Nas man, I'm God's Son, nah dunn, I'm on One I'm dumb, I don't got guns dude But let's battle and see who sons who I'm reading Sun-Tzu, translating Don Killuminati into Spanish Wrapping my body in bandages Drunk driving on a Wednesday, all my friends be rapping They always be writing, wake up tomorrow, like what happened The verse done, and it's always aiite tho Ayo, Michael Jackson is Monty Python (What?) All of y'all pricks can suck my dick (Dick!) I'm stupid as shit, but I'm bout to be rich (Rich!) I'm at the Pizza Hut, I'm at the Taco Bell The combination made my eyes bleed (See what I did I there?) It's Herman, I'm swerving, the nervous MC I'll rap on the track if my friends let me (Thank you friends!) You guys aiite, but I ain't tryna have an orgy (Nothing personal!) The Jameson, the ginger ale, occasionally the Georgi (Off it!) The Popov, the Dubra, all of that shit (All of it!) Proper and super, they falling back quick (Quick) I got three shirts and they all look expensive (Two of 'em do!) 2000 Volkswagen mad old and dented Skateboard P, Ashanti: foolish (Foolish!) The worst rapper on this track, third coolest Straight shots of Cuervo, blunts to the neck Got a rat bitch that smoke blacks until the plastic melt My legacy is shining like a diamond on a tanning bed Climbing on you niggas, put the iron to your head Instead, you niggas tryin' to get ahead Like a stray bullet, you niggas misled I'm about my bread, you ain't, you can roll Try and stop that, get a bagel-sized hole Cause it a' been nice, heat the house, use a stove Took a cold bath to walk to school in the snow Now I take it back, when these niggas was fronting Now I got something, they ain't worried about nothing, nigga Me and my niggas about to take the world over Me and my niggas about to take the world over Rolling out a onion, blunts Paul Bunyan Onion booty bitch crying, deep throating something Straight shots of the sterno plus, wick stuck in the bottle empty Three blocks to the target we lit it and lob it hard at Sentry Four pigs of the oinking variety guard the market entry Five minutes of flames and then aim the whistle my father lent me Six o'clock we meet up and divvy the shells among the youngins Seven continents in the shit and smoke like it's fuckin London Just before they ate up the funds our harmony love was bumping Now government issue nines are pointed where your blood is pumping Tend to mop up these muttering zombies talker pieces El'll vent on you harder than Fukushima breezes In the end when a dozen or so ajourn to reason You'll find the verdict return corrupted in murderous seasons With inverted 31's and other unlucky omens Thats why I chug 7 and 7's til I'm fucking homeless And every time you think my fifteen minutes of fame are up I'll spit another sixteen to prove to the world I fucking own it Damn it feel good to see people up on it Couple thousand views on Youtube a nigga still hungry No food in my stomach and my pockets fucked up Plus my mother still work so why should I give a fuck? Fuck a blog, fuck a label, fuck a meeting, fuck an A&R Fuck a co-sign, mothafucka fuck it all Still lost as Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye Skull fuck her, smut, nuttin' try to catch her in the eye Big belly still take my shirt off like Nelly Rasta pasta for Footprints buy liquor out the deli and shit My pops negligence done made me rebellious Arrested Development the rest is irrelevant Fuck a throne watch the project bench covered in pigeon shit This for my nigga Los 'til we see him again Stretch a nigga like a regular tee from the outlet Hidin' my rhyme book from the grammaton clerics Mishka bear, obnoxious as Roger Klotz I plot as the clock tick tocks to make the world suck my cock Validated in every wrong decision I ever did My ex girlfriend thought I wouldn’t ever be shit Well looky here bitch my dick grew 6 inches since then Will I make it out the projects? I guess it depends, huzzah, bitch!
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