Quintuplets - GDP

You catch the back last from paragraph

Laugh and its little rapper trash

Got the powdered bags stashed in the caravan

I sneeze on cats like there’s dandruff in their fur

They leave it up to their manager to do the work

Might have some punchlines, but I don’t see the fire in her eye

They think life is Eddy Murphy party all the time

So let the vocals at the mind

So crystal clear on his mic, but crystal meth on his mind

Record labels got more up their sleeves than just dirty arms

It’s a disconcerting mob

Everybody wanna be rappers and talk about themselves like superheroes

Your group is a crutch, and your producer’s a weirdo

Got room to grow, where’d your career go?

Nowhere, cause you sound the same you did years ago…

King of the underground

Every song is like album, each albums sacred

The word play makes sense in ways that can’t be explained

So just play that, funky, funky

Its crunk butter bubble gum sucker MC’s

Get left like the bodies exhibit

Knows karate, plus a shotty and biscuit

Brass knuckles, switch blade, Swiss army, a kitchen

A stiletto, a screwdriver, and some scissors

Hit the lab all winter, new jams

And we can battle if you wanna get embarrassed in front of your friends

Got your chicken head all impressed

Punch her in the titty, down shifting in a benz

She come on stage and then I came on stage

Run trains like you wanna puff a name brand’s

Black like Obama

GDP is like the dark side of the force, on the dark side of the moon

Spark the dark side of the spoon, put it on the far side, shoot

Hand me a tie, she keeps passing me by

I’m never getting a job and I’m never going to die

Married to the game of quintuplets

She doesn’t listen to know one, doesn’t respect nothin

Young kids be like, «GDP, I relate to you.»

(thanks)

I tell em «That's what happens when you pay your dues»

There’s some things that money can’t buy

And for everything else there’s armed robbery and homicide

The king is some shit some folks don’t even know about

But the few who do feel honored just to smoke us out

Gold label on the house no doubt

Girls book me in their towns just to put me in their worthless mouths

We smoked an L

Useless.

Useless, useless.

Pistol Pete, Slangcorp.

Run for mother fucking cover.

Litterally, lit-trally, litrally.

Aoi