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cult of the damned - nicole lyrics

verse 1: lee scott
i’m the one- i’m the o-
i’m a one man army like ason
there isn’t a problem i’m not a miniature vodka bottle away from
i’m jesus with a face on
the voice in me head is me only day one
alas i have spoken
but ye have trouble understandin’ the notion
i speak in slang and me body language is broken
you’re gettin pimp slapped with an angular motion
sharks swim to dry land when i stand in the ocean
i lap ye’ while i’m flaggin’ with me pants saggin’
tappin’ a b-tch, with no hands, dabbin’
i’m stompin’ on your dreams like a chav dancin’
on me high horse, draggin’ the band wagon

verse 2: milkavelli
busy body
i’m not like like anybody
hms, yeah that’s my waist
i got that ferry on me
many many, mini money
laigon laigon, till they rest my body
la la, yellow telly tubby, blah blah
on the other side where its never sunny
with a bag full of that illy illy mcgillicuddy
ay, drinkin’ gin while i’m playin’ gin and rummy
616, i’m with jim, but that ain’t my gym buddy
ay, i’m from a world that is not the earth
i’m rockin’ pearls, but i’m not a girl, what on earth?
loss of words when i stop and twirl
watch and learn
i tell my friends, watch them selves since i c-cked the nerf

verse 3: black josh
closed casket, i know they wanna see me dead
but those b-st-rds, are only gonna see me sweg
i did drugs and can’t be normal again
hit my barber up to shave both the h-rns on me head
ay, h-ll boy, little nicky in the bubble coat
i turn the greatest of all time into curried goat
my sweg, over the top like a rugby goal
i roll up and hit the spliff like my funny bone
shoulda, coulda, woulda, but you wouldn’t though
cover blown, i should of known your squad are full of p-ssy holes
‘sides you sorted my gang out with stussy clothes
i use my louis rag to blow the yay outta my bl–dy nose

verse 4: king grubb
uh, g-r-u double b
with my crown, golden gown, and a bud of cheese
deliverin’ a mumbled public speech
lyin’ through my discoloured t–th
i’m what yeezus wishes he could have been
i mean look at me, don’t mind if i do comfort eat
most these rappers are too glum to speak
prolly get cat-fished every other week
real sh-t, but the way i say it is beyond belief
favourite colour green
save the pollen for the honey bees
skullduggery
plottin’ on your currency, till i got a forest full of money trees

verse 5: bill shakes
angel dust nap
raid your skunk stash
sc-mbag, i blaze your blunt down in one drag
vodka bottle fed since thirteen
care free, fryin’ rotten eggs in hair grease
off me ‘ead, bombin’ boba fett, rocket fuel
lost some screws, out of order come across as rude
throw you off a roof, rob your food
what’s true? what isn’t? the plot thickens
couldn’t give a f-ck if you heard me
get tied to the hood of a merc’ driven 130 down the m6
smuggled to kirkby wrapped up in a curtain, and dumped in the mersey
slap a wack rapper for no good reason, f-ck ’em
it’s open season

verse 6: bisk
life ain’t free but your honey is
but f-ck that, where the money is? like
it’s a stick up, want the paper and the liquor
some cigarettes for later and that bacon for my dinner
yo, me and slum we runnin’ trains on your boo
sh-t, you made it to the top floor, but bisk’s on the roof
came for the loot, took his fisherman too
stay spittin’ the truth
a b-tch or two stay mixin’ my soup
put this in the stereo and writ off the coup
crawled out and started piffin’ a zoot
your b-tch want the juice
tell the truth, josh been in it too
keep a pack in my pocket like we sittin’ in school

verse 7: salar
i’m not befriendin’ ’em
watch, to the end of the block i’m sendin’ ’em
not pretendin’ i’m god – i’m just resemblin’
time is what the heroine of the plot wants to spend with him – lots
beggin’ for attention, i knock and enter ’em
next day i’m probably not rememberin’
your whole style is poppyc-ck
rocky box ya till your body drops
and skeleton flops, then i’m
bellin’ your pops, and i’m, tellin’ him off for such a negligent job
s is ‘the mob’
givin’ lessons in chess while i’m gettin’ some top
i ain’t f-ckin’ emo but i be s-xin’ a goth on the lee-low
antihero chico, semi-conscious rapper with a banker ego
stackin’ zeros

- cult of the damned lyrics

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