Barny Fletcher - Christ Flow lyrics

You suckers settle like sediment
Sentimental to ketamine
Rent a pedalo get em in
Then I’ll let it go gentlemen
Fletcher in the Sketchers
Etch A Sketching chicks up on Letterman
Send a medal and cheque
It’s signed by an Ellen with pen in hand
I’ll fashion a bow, fashion to go
Flashing her globes at my show
My passion is smashing, irrational, casual
I pray my Clay be smashing the moulds
You can’t see us, or be us
Cassius pass us the dro, ok I
Sit by the exit on my flight
I got two X’s on my eyes
Sit by my exes on my flight, woah
That floral dress be looking nice
The chorus best be hooking right
I think I’m best at cooking rice
So bring the sides whoa

A fucking Christ Flow it don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though
Like a cyclone with a bright glow
It don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though

You better than this no I ain’t
I’m a loser wait
I'm a truther and the proof is
In the fucking cake
Crash into a beauty pageant
Man I’ll win that shit accolades and ladies
Been there done that bin that shit
Never seen a movie
Better than the Iron Giant
That shit had me crying
All night hiding under duvets sighing
Man some times I feel like
I’m the Iron Giant flying
Into nuclear warheads my jaw clenched
Alyx my belt, Orion gravity defying
Monty Python Life of Brian
1963 rendition of Jason and the Argonauts
Passing up on all support on tour
My daughter calls from Baltimore
Shit ain’t have a daughter
But I do have apple cores of course

A fucking Christ Flow it don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though
Like a cyclone with a bright glow
It don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though

So if to perch means to purchase
When I say I’m ‘perchin like a bird’
I don’t mean chirping, slurping worms
No I be murdering Hermés
Béarnaise on my steak honey, can I stay?
‘Get away you primate
I got a boyfriend, what, you a blind ape?’
I will, kick him down four flights
Have him falling for a fortnight
Take a tour guide to the
Morgue and the man say
‘Damn this goblin’s corpsem light’
I sit back and crack attack a pack
Of Snack a Jacks and Coors Lite
She a maestro with the lights low
‘Come on baby, where’d your tights go?’

A fucking Christ Flow it don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though
Like a cyclone with a bright glow
It don’t mean much
But it’s sounding tight though