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sensei – goldchain lyrics


[verse 1]
formerly mediocre, now i’m the antonym
scorching compet-tion, have ’em darker than a panther’s skin
or a squad of yusufu’s dancing in the ambulance
taking bodies to the hospital encased in black canv-ssing
i’m slapping stupid kids until my hand itches
and blurting out in cl-ss cause i know what the answer is
been the illest since barack was sucking on the cancer sticks
don’t f-ck with the crew cause we’re worse than what the mansons did
dragon crew, slapping dudes, rappin crude, tappin b00bs, in the fappin mood and we’re laughing too
unregisterably we’re p-ssing you
we’re hotter than a pack of jews
holding lit candles spewing acid fumes
stop thinking ’bout the girl that you’re attracted to
cause i took her cl-t
and attached it to my ratchet p-b-s
smoking oak trees and drowning in an old fashioned brew
chewing on swing sets at daycares swallowing plastic screws

[verse 2]
slipping babies roofies so the milfs know i’m bout it, bout it
having twelvesomes with the paparazzi crowding round it
looking for the p-ssy found it pound it c-m drown it
leave her mind clouded clouded with her face and head surrounded
by a group or troupe of super duper eager -ss cooter bruisers
with pickles, planks, pillows and no lube to use or
movie shooters
rapping is your p-ssion but for me it’s recreational
i still manage to rip beats without separation tools
i use weak grammar that destroys the rep of nation’s schools
cause if i spoke with eloquence i’d lose half you dazed buffoons
i have potential to be at the top, replacing moons
but i enjoy your company so i act lackadaisical
when in reality i’m writing viscious raps to blaze the fools
and eating wack beef with chopsticks, i gotta save the spoons

[verse 3]
this isn’t like a rap, it’s the thoughts of a psychopath
written down slowly as i visualize some type of wrath:
me weilding two knives, an axe, a lighter and three kinds of gas
a spiky bat makes spinals crack
while bumping mj vinyl tracks
if i die today remember me like jack torrance
with a hatchet chasing white kids in a black forest
throwing molotovs at cops and racing in a smashed taurus
hitting b-tches harder than opening a door with a cracked door hinge
i’m cruising down the street in my nine two with belag
jocking the b-tches and hitting all the hoes with celery
running around naked starting fires committing felonies
then moving to tacoma to make a living out of selling weaves
this is just a hobby but i’ve heard that i’m a prodigy
constant sick verses cause me suffering from rotting t–th
got the type of flow to make famine end and stop disease
rock a dragon logo and the acronym on cotton tees