'em, look at 'em man Little suburban fucks What the fuck you doin at your shows homie? Don't listen to 'em Math You, do your thing [Verse 1] Little Math You
you grew up or where you live it goes Oh oh you a star now huh You large now you too large to talk Don't forget I used to give you free refills mother
Fordítás: Légkör. Little Math Ön.
Panic attack. [x8] So what you drinking? So what you popping? So what you eating? So what you dropping? So what you smoking? So what you sniffing? So how you
men Overfill, overkill, tryin' to deal Call the toll free and order my some diet pills Got me looking at the sugar in the Kool-Aid that you made You
boys and shit Ay dog, I heard you got those trees Wait dog, you can't possibly pee Even thirteen, what you doing open this late? You ain't got no older
[Slug] You know you fucked up right? Bye bye, wish you luck with life But I'd be damned if, I let you manage to bless that blade and keep taking advantage
to start you motor I'm good energy powered by sober You be the water and I'll be the boulder You want a fresh style let me show you This is And this
a musket pressed to the musk of the budget And I'm a must of the crunk shit YOU GET DOWN You don't know the meaning of dope anyhow You probably think
dream I fell out of my stream of self-consciousness And I've got welts on my mind to signify all my accomplishments. No matter whose math you use to
here A little atmosphere Blue lights out on airport road Motown, in a field in a farmer's grove Big planes comin' overhead Lowdown You can see the bolts You
of here A little atmosphere blue lights out on airport road Motown, in a field in a farmer's grove Big planes comin' overhead Lowdown, you can see the bolts, you
phone too Books and papers, pencils and pens, Math and science just ain't my friend I need a life, it's a waste of my day To hear you babble for my stinkin
A little atmosphere Blue lights out on airport road Motown, in a field in a farmer's grove Big planes comin' overhead Lowdown You can see the bolts You
