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dy-66 - hyakumantō darani lyrics

check’em all!
сause they are our target
shake’em all!

they’ve definitely got it
track’em all!
i’ma little bit a smart guy or like more than just totally r+t+rded
moronic macho, as they are
a bit of iconic culture was pulled off and split into comic banjos
which i bet you my beak
are delivered now by dump trucks with non+functioning r+t+rd in!
into a pokey room of a cheesy frat house you’ve just
moved in and have no any idea what are you supposed to do now?
in your pocket (uh!) just three or five bucks
whether it ought to be spent on a
snack or weed what the tricky conundrum?
lucky you!
you have someone of lil’s hooting from sound
system of your roommate, thus the choice comes apparent
so, “hey, dawg, the thing is cool, but if i was you
i wouldn’t let any comer smell that stink out of your bag though”
fake! all ’round is fake!
i tried to ignore it but the fact is the flakes i
carefully laid never were colorful, just explicitly black
pieces of me are still wandering in
outer sp+ce, i constantly seek to get it back
they are scattered all over
but all i know the whole life – is how to tag
it’s time to think over and try to sing over this beat
can my rap be any lower of any of available sh+t
i’ve ever heard of and stinky junk i have yet to eat
the whole world turned upside down that moment when you
realized litter doesn’t come from godless mean streets any more
now you can find it in a posh apartment with a glass+wall set up in
get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it right in a gorge
get back to the culture
of full+of+blood functions
grab sword and puncture me while i pour a punch there
i’ll be a sculpture of cheap paper+mache as a twenty feet archer
burn books but don’t touch it!
get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it in front of my sculpture!

a barefoot child is striding through crunchy ashes of paper
which is flying and plunging the barefoot child into deviant lounge
it crashes, so tape it while matrix still functions
i’ve put in way too much, grooming my conscience
it pulled me into the same posh and
insulated room with a glass i see a lush through
he’s just outta lush
with greasy and lush hair he’s dreaming to
record lush chick not a guy with around+eyes lushes
four years though, almost smashed, from ‘not so much’ to very low
apart of sense we should see soul
i’ve stepped on a glade to break it
rather than to thole my life soon will be over
you were about to play chicken
mine rap, yours, whose is a rotten chicken?
but you visit studio just for check+in
that studio i’m half+dead trying to make ideal sound+check in!
the art is non+political?
he wonders why he isn’t able physically to make songs famous
oh, it’s not lyrical
so little girls will never hum it
literally, but report on it critically
i get the plan of leading he subtly updated and he was striving to
live in though they were trying to
sh+t on it, stringing along with trends
isn’t it populism?
singing dance+pop, squeezed into lambos and cribs of marble and
granite, i was at the fifth
nine acres of digs, mumble rap gives to them credits
millions of papers for different labels for one special record
against amount of efforts they’ve ever placed in mumble with fake
voice while words+sound messing based on true
shameful facts or a made+up excited story with no lesson
the less sense in it the more fans are begging for dabbing in
droop pants or without it at all
it depends on what product they bring
meantime he’s still in the studio
trying to make fine sound+check in for you
get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it right in a gorge
get back to the culture
of full+of+blood functions
grab sword and puncture me while i pour a punch there
i’ll be a sculpture of cheap paper+mache as a twenty feet archer
burn books but don’t touch it!
get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it in front of my sculpture!

get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it right in a gorge
get back to the culture
of full+of+blood functions
grab sword and puncture me while i pour a punch there
i’ll be a sculpture of cheap paper+mache as a twenty feet archer
burn books but don’t touch it!
get back to tortures
get back to torches
take books and torch it in front of my sculpture!

- dy 66 lyrics

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