annoyin' samurai - gigolo lyrics
[instrumentals from figaro by madvillain]
[verse: annoyin’ samurai]
current condition: i am verbally stumped, emotional crump
sorting through a consequential dump with no funk
who would’ve thunk my happiness sunk
when a f-cking c-nt turned out to be a lucky runt?
calm down, exercise your core
comfort’s what that sounds like ’cause you’s a man-wh-r-
how you holdin’ up?
inside of a condor, as in spite of this rancor
“hope you know you’s a man-wh-r-”
is what luke would’ve said in return of the jed-i
when i
sigh with the guy that tells him you’s a man-wh-r-
so how’s life?
your girl’s a snore, she’s a bore?
ain’t no surprise, she’s a f-cking eyesore
glide, soar, fight boars, kiss freddie highmore and five more guys–
wait! isn’t she poor? still a f-cking eyesore
don’t care if she cries more
tears
drink beer but steer clear of the stink here:
wicked daughter of the king lear
indeed
shifted gear into shakespeare
i invoke fear in the hearts of the weak-willed
breed
smokin’ on cheap weed on top of steep steed
cold-c-ckin’ your meat
old copper neat, sweet-talker freak
-ss-ssin like the creed breed’s seed
jeez, louise! this is such a breeze
flow so cold, you can call me mr. freeze
i go old like gold over the moldy mole hole
told over a bowl of bolognaise lay’s
with a taste that missed like sentiments for the olden days
and the future’s seen through the haze
tuning to the blaze, spooned food with bearnaise
and the goons crooned cruel tutelage for glazed…
donuts
taste better than your ho’s snack, that’s: yo nuts
her coochy gooey, ickey like ten-year-old nougats
her booty non-existent like it’s certain, that’s: no b-tts
cheerin’ for the home team, all she says is, “go sl-ts!”
flat, chatty, wack and has back acne
your granddaddy lacks life and that’s hackneyed
oof
a mean thing to say
even in egregious cleveland buffets
even after thievin’ and leavin’ me fazed
that man-wh-r-‘s bear is leavin’ me crazed…
ho
gigolo, gigolo
correcto, bro
quite a low blow
but nothing beats the fact that you’re faker than a sweet’n low
and you’re a gigolo
gigolo, gigolo
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