Emily Rugburn, GDP - Perms, Sperm, and Sherm lyrics
[Emily Rugburn, GDP - Perms, Sperm, and Sherm lyrics]
Self-destructive with the ego
Killed my landlord and Roy's PO
Blowing cocaine through a c
Note in a black cloak with Dio
Rolling ceelo you may have seen shows
But I promise never ones like this
Drunk as shit
screaming about how I hate myself
And sucker-punching kids
The drums are in your eardrums
G's like syrup on a waffle
With beer goggles, she had on green contacts
And a pierced nostril broke the condom
But no sense in crying over spilt milk
We're still ill like The Smiths
Lit a spliff and popped a chill pill
A code of ethics amongst the criminally
Minded: always run from sirens
Lie, and never confess to nothing
No matter if they find it
Motherfuckers miss the point
Like benefit concerts in the projects
I'm rocking plazas while he's bussing
Tables at Red Lobster
You gotta earn these type of mic privileges
Cal Ripken status passing the masses like
Quarterbacks in Madden, grabbed em'
May have but lost the vote
She caught a liquid sword to the throat
I'll leave hickeys all over a bitch
Just so that her boyfriend knows
You got it? Spark it, we on vacation jobless
Been in bonds regardless of the stock market
Lit a bomb off in Target
The one man mosh pit that
Started out a bad joke
Now we backstage like the clambake
Getting bitches names
It's like when prime came through
We shit on every rhyme they do
On Christmas Day, catching flicks
And eating Chinese food, grimey dudes
That party and bullshit
Like Gang Starr with the full clip
And a grip of social commentary like
Uncle Luke meets Bill Hicks
Killed my landlord and Roy's PO
Blowing cocaine through a c
Note in a black cloak with Dio
Rolling ceelo you may have seen shows
But I promise never ones like this
Drunk as shit
screaming about how I hate myself
And sucker-punching kids
The drums are in your eardrums
G's like syrup on a waffle
With beer goggles, she had on green contacts
And a pierced nostril broke the condom
But no sense in crying over spilt milk
We're still ill like The Smiths
Lit a spliff and popped a chill pill
A code of ethics amongst the criminally
Minded: always run from sirens
Lie, and never confess to nothing
No matter if they find it
Motherfuckers miss the point
Like benefit concerts in the projects
I'm rocking plazas while he's bussing
Tables at Red Lobster
You gotta earn these type of mic privileges
Cal Ripken status passing the masses like
Quarterbacks in Madden, grabbed em'
May have but lost the vote
She caught a liquid sword to the throat
I'll leave hickeys all over a bitch
Just so that her boyfriend knows
You got it? Spark it, we on vacation jobless
Been in bonds regardless of the stock market
Lit a bomb off in Target
The one man mosh pit that
Started out a bad joke
Now we backstage like the clambake
Getting bitches names
It's like when prime came through
We shit on every rhyme they do
On Christmas Day, catching flicks
And eating Chinese food, grimey dudes
That party and bullshit
Like Gang Starr with the full clip
And a grip of social commentary like
Uncle Luke meets Bill Hicks