Eat with a snapped fork
Running from fat pork
Rappers with no morals need to take a sec and see what they stand for
One mint julep
Tiptoes light through the tulips
Ass rising high for pies cooling
Ten toes down to the movement
Not the scene
A thousand withered strings all scratching out a threnody
Scored by moi, directed by Alan Smithee
Now all I need to do to impress is bump Biggie, and defend 50
Have you no pity?
Remembered by the size of his dick and Poop Shitty
Verified by RhymeZone
Empires built from the rubble of the Guidestones
Defended by an iron dome
What's your time zone?
Private phone follies
Found 'em dead the next morning straight wired on Molly
Polly-wanna rappers throwing golliwogs to tiger jaws
Best believe I've read up on my Ronnie Laws
Tossed some gillywater in the mulligan
Lungs losing function, pneumonic shuttering
Mnemonic utterance with no stuttering
I get the joint jumping off an SP, no sputtering
Rocking with Shango, plenty thundering
Couldn't ride a type beat with a gun to my head
Most producers now, they just act as middlemen
I'll bump Zappa and Sexyy Red the same set
And leave the shovel selling for the more talented salesmen
Crying 'bout a gay man in a Rumble hat
Can't say "faggot", Snackademiks couldn't handle that
You can be anything you want, just like battle rap
And still you decide to throw yourself into the bramble patch
It's f*cking tragic man
I'm just guarding the leftovers in the backseat
Battery low headphones yelling at me
By day I'm looking to forage
By night I'm in the lighthouse at your local Public Storage
Buggy - Miracle Whip Lyrics
Buggy - Miracle Whip Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Eat with a snapped fork
Running from fat pork
Rappers with no morals need to take a sec and see what they stand for
One mint julep
Tiptoes light through the tulips
Ass rising high for pies cooling
Ten toes down to the movement
Not the scene
A thousand withered strings all scratching out a threnody
Scored by moi, directed by Alan Smithee
Now all I need to do to impress is bump Biggie, and defend 50
Have you no pity?
Remembered by the size of his dick and Poop Shitty
Verified by RhymeZone
Empires built from the rubble of the Guidestones
Defended by an iron dome
What's your time zone?
Private phone follies
Found 'em dead the next morning straight wired on Molly
Polly-wanna rappers throwing golliwogs to tiger jaws
Best believe I've read up on my Ronnie Laws
Tossed some gillywater in the mulligan
Lungs losing function, pneumonic shuttering
Mnemonic utterance with no stuttering
I get the joint jumping off an SP, no sputtering
Rocking with Shango, plenty thundering
Couldn't ride a type beat with a gun to my head
Most producers now, they just act as middlemen
I'll bump Zappa and Sexyy Red the same set
And leave the shovel selling for the more talented salesmen
Crying 'bout a gay man in a Rumble hat
Can't say "faggot", Snackademiks couldn't handle that
You can be anything you want, just like battle rap
And still you decide to throw yourself into the bramble patch
It's f*cking tragic man
I'm just guarding the leftovers in the backseat
Battery low headphones yelling at me
By day I'm looking to forage
By night I'm in the lighthouse at your local Public Storage
Running from fat pork
Rappers with no morals need to take a sec and see what they stand for
One mint julep
Tiptoes light through the tulips
Ass rising high for pies cooling
Ten toes down to the movement
Not the scene
A thousand withered strings all scratching out a threnody
Scored by moi, directed by Alan Smithee
Now all I need to do to impress is bump Biggie, and defend 50
Have you no pity?
Remembered by the size of his dick and Poop Shitty
Verified by RhymeZone
Empires built from the rubble of the Guidestones
Defended by an iron dome
What's your time zone?
Private phone follies
Found 'em dead the next morning straight wired on Molly
Polly-wanna rappers throwing golliwogs to tiger jaws
Best believe I've read up on my Ronnie Laws
Tossed some gillywater in the mulligan
Lungs losing function, pneumonic shuttering
Mnemonic utterance with no stuttering
I get the joint jumping off an SP, no sputtering
Rocking with Shango, plenty thundering
Couldn't ride a type beat with a gun to my head
Most producers now, they just act as middlemen
I'll bump Zappa and Sexyy Red the same set
And leave the shovel selling for the more talented salesmen
Crying 'bout a gay man in a Rumble hat
Can't say "faggot", Snackademiks couldn't handle that
You can be anything you want, just like battle rap
And still you decide to throw yourself into the bramble patch
It's f*cking tragic man
I'm just guarding the leftovers in the backseat
Battery low headphones yelling at me
By day I'm looking to forage
By night I'm in the lighthouse at your local Public Storage
Writer: Riley Tracy
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid