Art Of Rap (freestyle) Lyrics - Singles - Smokee Tokess

Whatever my targets on 

I carpet bomb 

My man Karthik gone, wrong, 

running out of sodom 

with a semi lob on. 

Smelling rotton, that's a horses head 

in your daughters bed 

cos I caught you slipping 

now I'm sitting in your kitchen. 

Safe crackers grey matter 

sprayed back (uh), 

my heist game remain dapper 

gay chatter, made you sound like, 

the queerest fella, 

trying to tickle with the nearest feather 

make you fear this cellar, you'll be here forever 

I was just a teen 

jumping on my trampoline, 

smoking ample green 

getting lean, 

with this tramp Pauline. 

Once she tried to set me up, 

I had to trample fiends, 

grabbed her by the ankle ring 

and mangled her like a mandarin 

Then for no reason, 

I told Liam, the Cambodian opium 

that I sold Ian at 4pm, 

was old and mouldy and, 

so he's O.D'in, 

cold and he won't speak, 

and his nose and his throats leaking