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House Of Pain - Third Stone From The Sun - текст песни, видео

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House Of Pain - Third Stone From The Sun - текст песни, видео

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Уроки эстрадного вокала в Санкт-Петербурге
Here come the pecker 
Wood mic wrecker 
Sweet like nectar 
MC selector 
Come again, keep the style I'm bustin' 
You think I'm droppin' acid ???only super cold does it??? 
Feel the rushin' through your blood and cerebellum 
And any man that defies, eyes will be swellin' 
So whatcha smellin', kid, I'll bust your melon 
Then I spit out the seed, you got dirty deeds 
You're done, dirt cheap, I'm on the greek don't sleep 
Melee cause the circus, but bullets run deep
And talk is cheap, kid, it's time to make moves
It's time to make capital gains with my brains
The song remains, the same as it ever was
And you can say my crew's fallin' but it never does 
I'm white chocolate, clockwork apocalypse
Inter-dimensional like Prince be sensual 
My interplanetary sub-galactic tactic 
Got ya wearin' vests like prophylactics 
My verbal waters rock your sons and daughters 
And I'll tell more lies than priests and rabbis 
And all the allies put together in a cipher 
My skin's my cell, no parole on my life

CHORUS: 
Doin' time on the third stone from the sun 
Lucy got me on the run, kid, hold my gun 
I'm dealin' with the pressures, son, life ain't fun 
Doin' time on the third stone from the sun

I'll be gettin' down and dirty by 2030 
Sippin' off my forty, out deep in your shorty
Lordy, glory, hallelujah 
Like a big Samoan my sig's gonna boo ya
Do-a-ditty, oh what a pity 
I'm blowin' up the spot like Oklahoma City 
We might terrorism and hold plagerism
And blood shot vision 'cause I smoke major 'ism 
If you got sob stories, kid, don't tell me 'bout 'em 
'Cause them tin boots you wearin' I'm a lift you outta 'em
With two shots to your bid, I ain't playin' kid 
I know the games that you runnin' and all the things you did 
And you'll say 'holy cow' if my gun go blaow
Click-bang, watch me do my thang 
My element's in order, my attribute's eternal
And all you duck MC's are smellin' just like the Colonel 
You're all fried chicken with your back side lickin'
I'll play you like a snitch with the ice pick stickin' 
Out your eye socket and if I wanna cock it 
I play remelzee and pull it out my pocket 
I pull it out my pocket, I pull it out my pocket 
Yeah, I play remelzee and pull it out my pocket

CHORUS
Добавлено: 22.02.2014
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