Tutone-Sotirios - Folded (feat. J-Shaw) Lyrics

Folded - never that... get a "tele-prompt" first, spit a better rap. Get it glowing - set a Slap on a nine, better wrap it Up, though. She gloating. Flew too close to the surface And burst into flames with a thirst for emotion. True blue Boasted a nervous system With insurance against devotion
But the fuel pump don't play passenger
Is it cruel? Yup, most say massacre
Put a deuce up or do something stupid
And learn why they call me a goddamn bastard
I told ya
Get attached and a puppeteer snipping
Flipping it back
Tipping a match to the mad dog, rip and attack
Get in the back with the mask on, sit and relax
You're a terrible listener, ain't ya
Stranger danger getting a facial
Gripping it sick like a handwritten script for a moment of happiness
Shit is disgraceful

Folded, like a con scared
Set your bomb there down, and the bong's shared now
Take the wrong stairs down, to the ally
And gunned down, cause you a cold bitch
And don't know this
Drop the old, nice sound
Drop the damn act clown
Dropped in hell right now, so don't call me
If you ever drum a sound when they call
And the kudos not me then clown you should fold it
All of these rappers keep saying I'm back
Where the hell did you go bitch? I never left
I was in the corner, I guess I forgot to clap
When you said you were coming back, oh well
Too bad, no one will remember that
All you do is getting mad, high enough you didn't stack
Sometimes all I need is a pat on the back
Other times all I need is a kick in your ass
If nobody will do it then I volunteer as tribute
Your f*cking mind is clueless, and mine is f*cking ruthless
This is how I use it, In a fight you're toothless
In hindsight, well, shit, you're kinda useless
Your games are kind of stupid, your song I wouldn't loop it
You don't like where I stand? Then bitch come try to move this
I'm over here with unlimited rhymes
Which means you have a limited time... to do shit
Your poems were phoned in, my flow was flown in
I showed him joking foes broken open
I've stolen your snowed-in soul and then sold it
With a smile on my face and my middle finger unfolded

Folded
Like a night of bad hands
But I'm glad man, could've had spam in the inbox
Flintlock of the hip hip gridlock
Shit pop off when a kid drop thick knocks
Pish-posh bitch please stop
Caught me off guard but a card you are not
At least not worth calling a bluff
The opposition is tough
And you been off in a rut
Slut
Shut up, boy nasty
Tickle the pink I'm in the backseat laughing
Bad freak bragging the
Ass meat clapping
Fidgety digits committing hashtag blasphemy
You made a bad choice asking me
Tell it to me straight no cash for the actors fee
Unabashedly mashing the passion to atrophy cackling madly pack it up please
I leave your ass at an Applebee's
A little cash for a taxi and a snack
Eat it up slow like I beat it up hoe
You know that the moment you opened your soul you folded

Like a lawn chair
Let your long hair down
Take a strong stare down
Take the long stairs down to the lobby
And out of town
You a bold bitch
And you know this
Drop the old night gown
Drop the goddamn scowl
Cop a long flight down to your Mommy
If you ever come around the J Shaw and the Tutone Bobby you bound to get folded

Folded just like he holding