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p walsh - down the drain lyrics

[verse 1: p walsh]
i’m from a pugilist and a poet
i’m new to this and i’m polish
ain’t jew-ew-ish but i know it’s
the stupidest being stoic
the moodiest and his flow is
so studious and is loaded with
foolishness and colder than
rubious, uncovered noses
noted to be coded with tones of lonesomeness
clones all over, feels like i’m remote controlling this
p-ssing time like dyk-s and wh0r-s in michael kors
asinine, my friend and i are just some righteous dorks
that -ss is mine when miley tries to untie and bite my nicest drawers
knifes and forks can strike but can’t slice like scythes or swords
but words, yes words are the worst weapons in the world
words can can leave you depressed
and push your heart up in your neck when it should be in your chest
a bullet proof vest can’t doop or prevent words from getting up in your head
but i digress because stress will just stretch you out like ligaments on bayonets
inside my head is just a bunch of filament figments
saving s-x for someone i favor best, but i guess i’m so f-cking flavorless
so it’s no use, tongue chewed, undisclosed news and a blown fuse
don’t own no chrome to put into use to undo these old blues
i hope it rains on your funeral day so you can soak in the grain
just a fraction of the drained tears you’ve molded in pain
hey, i painted a picture of you with the blood from my veins
what a shame how depressing my rhymes have became, yeah

[hook: ak](x2)
life is going counterclockwise
swirling, wish it was not mine
i’m going insane
i’m going down the drain

[verse 2: p walsh]
kids is shooting pistols like where the f-ck the cop go?
not home, getting p-ssed and hitting b-tches like i’m at a rock show
got dough? in a world where people murder for the turtles
wetting others when they squirt them like they’re squirtle
in an era where every kid’s an internet ent-ty
only thinking of tweets and what’s on the tele-v
sponges, just sucking up everything in their feed
grab a scene kid, shove his steamed wig through the wall
cause that seems like a place where his plugs do belong
there’s a city that’s called detroit, considered a war zone
but all they cares about is their hormones and wardrobe
only thing i know is rejection
my only home is depression
sending messages with the tones of forensics lessons
i’m not common, head is filled with sounds of glocks popping
prompting my thoughts with low income, i’m a false prophet
f-ck a mum and garter
i’ll cut it up like dahmer
or f-cking barber shop ya cause a slaughter
second coming of eminem, i’m the christ of rap
always been the realest kid, i’ll never slice your back
dicing cats with my name tag labeled the zodiac
holy cr-p, no need to tell me rappers need to say less
don’t tell me you don’t smell me like the inside of a payless
with more rhymes than times doom said that phrase, best
bet your life that i’m you’re friend who’s here to save your playlist

[hook: ak](x2)

[hook: p walsh](x2)

- p walsh lyrics

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