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If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song Boom Bap 101 by Tom MacDonald for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.
Throw your
Throw your hands up
Alright this rappin' shit is easier then beatin' up a teenager
If you think that your bars are cold then trust me you'd be freezin' here
It's me against the world and the beatin' will be so severe
You’ll think the year was two thousand twelve and there really was a meteor
The pedal to the metal I've had several accidental beers
A temperamental rebel with a devil nestled in my ear
A sentimental fellow I wrestle with my potential
'Til the intercontinental belt is mine like yo the champ is here (champ is here)
I'm seth rollins, I'm dwayne johnson, I'm steve austin
The best rockin', I'm way awesome, so keep talkin'
You press pause when the game hard and you need options
I flex often, you lame awkward, you geeks awful
Solid like a statue in a bulletproof vest
Inside a plexiglass encasement full of hardened cement
Then wrapped in carbon fiber armor locked inside of a chest
Kept in a confidential area with barb wire fence
Man I'm lit, like gasoline is free with a lighter
I'm reachin' maximum capacity, can't be any tighter
I'll hold your grandson as ransom, the family hella frightened
And put his face in a magazine with a reward, if you find him
Super savage, I'll laugh when your uber crash
And I'll smash your computer after and dash to a school classroom
And act like student vandal and scratch up the tutors mazda
When they ask if I knew what happened
I'll Jack a suzuki wagon, put a rag in the fuel tank
And watch the fireworks like the fourth of July
I'm like lightnin' in a bottle or a sorcerers eyes
Rappers hatin' on me lately, they just bored of their lives
And chasin' clout on borrowed time but I'm the owner of mine
Born to survive, y’all were built with older design
It's too late for an update, your papers ordered and signed
I'm sorry your motor isn't performin' like mine
I know it's morbid, I look forward to the moment it dies
That's not important though
The rappers are my sons, I'm runnin' orphan homes
I force feed 'em poison porridge shuttin' down their organs slow
I'm always goin' gloryhole that's balls to that walls
You know how the story goes don't talk to the cops
If they corner you and force you then I do not recall
That got a lot in common with the way I feel about your songs
They're forgettable
Like I smoked a blunt and followed it with edibles
Then popped a bunch of ecstasy while hammered at a festival
Then fell asleep and woke up wearin' nothin' deep in mexico
And then you ask me if I heard your music like forgettable
Heh I'm incredible, pat me on the back
They think 'cause I got face tattoos I probably couldn’t rap
I ain't lil' yatchy or tekashi, uzi or xan
I'm smarter than I look if you're too stupid to ask
Otras canciones de Tom MacDonald
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