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zenuwafu - broth lyrics

[verse 1: bothered]
whoop di dee it’s the crooked t
cook bookin’ bully tush ’til i’m full of steamed pussy meat
playin’ footsie with rookies’ teeth, advised they shouldn’t look at me
so i push ’em in a bag that resembles oogie boogie’s physique
zonin every night, stoned lookin’ feral, might
rise up from my burial and give foes not so very sterile bites
rockin mishka, keep watch on that prodigy
bothered the reaper like he was the next best thing to father me
but boy, f-ck that deathly clown, troy shut they petty mouths
‘fore i grab the ‘chete and have to heftily cut their testes out
f-ck, its messy now
guts juttin’ out like spaghetti, i’m drenched in sweat and the stench is foul
slap on a bit of deodorant
answer the door, explain to missing persons i didn’t really choke a b-tch
officer i told ya, got glaucoma so i can legally smoke this piff
slam the door, go back to my room and freely stroke my d-ck
but boy, i’ll stretch my testicles, annoyed with these tempered hoes
cause boy, i guess my life’s set up to be void of any impressive goals
ignore my punctured lunged chest and toke, have troy get fresh edibles
cause troy already knows i’m zonin every night ’til my head’s filled with holes

[hook: bothered]
zen gang, do or die, and tages the loser, right?
pooled into the pretend game, end sane brains with unapproved rhymes
macabre is the bothered genre, holler to get zenuwaf style slaughtered
gotcha mama knob schlobbin’ and gettin my fraudulent dollars laundered
(2x)

[verse 2: ascetic (as trey)]
washed out jeans, fat -ss wallet
got a switchblade just chillin’ in my pocket
floral hat, gray sweater
i get b-tches feelin’ underneath the weather
got my board and no permit
no need for a license because i got one to spit
we got t rapping and proddin’
while nightmares droppin’ people in f-cking creaky coffins
i’m just constipated from wendy’s chicken fries, large fanta
f-ck with zen gang and get some top banta’
we give out disses like gifts from naughty santa
roll up in a whip, while rollin up some spliffs
got your b-tch in the back choking on my d-ck
she tells me
“trey, you’re so sick
keep your hand on my cl-t, don’t stop until you break your wrist
matter of fact, p-ss me that spliff”
i’m like nah b-tch, you only for my d-ck
your head game is lacking just quite a bit
kick her out the car, tell her hit the road
she gotta walk far, but trey? he’s gotta go

[hook]

- zenuwafu lyrics

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