Текст песни Last Place - The Palmer Squares

Y′all ain't fuckin′ with me
Term K plundering another city
Then I'm finna hit the Comfort Inn to puff the sticky
Cut the bliggy while we bump some Biggie
Mother's milk got me suckin′ titties tryna cut a deal
It′s such a pity
Yo what's your gimmick?
Take one
Camera whores and fake thugs plunge through open trap doors
Going back and forth on some ping pong shit
These sing-song twinks need to get off of Drake′s nuts
Cast ashore in a ball of confusion
Given the temptations
Sit in your rent's basement and get wasted
It′s all an illusion
Twisting the hemp papers
Sparking like Ben Franklin
Hardly a sensation
Gave yourself to God cause the Devil was far too warm
There ain't a lot of honor in settling out of court
But if need be, we get creative
Hit the scene and deregulate it
Legislative when I put the pen to paper
Bad news for the Glass Steagall
The game changer
Stay making bad music for bad people
I walk right in the inimitable style
If y′all been talking shit well then you swimmin' in it now
Sit down we ain't finished by a mile
A grimacing clown with a sad face
The child with his hand raised
The mouse in the rat race
No joke
A fast paced slowpoke
The dome holds the crown for the last place

The way I stack chips they be calling Ac Biff with the almanac
Talking that shit bound to give kids a heart attack
The gab gifted cap twisting cat gets mad lifted
Turning hieroglyphs into artifacts
Making dollars like Eric and Parrish
I′m all American
Compare me to a werewolf in Paris
Or London
Repugnant pundit puff pungent nug until his lungs need a pump to function
Uh, sip Bourbon
Superb with the lip service
A jerk perched on the curb with a lit turkish
Spit sermons, flip work, and gyp merchants
Losing my grip like kicks on a slick surface
Sick verses
Turn kids a bit nervous
I′m Tim Burton
Submerged tryna lift burdens
Term and Ac are like a circus act, three rings
Hurtin' cats′ feelings at the burger shack, beefing
Believe me
I'm laced too tight
Need to loosen a knot
Palmer Squares be the lucrative squad
Refusing to stop producing as they cruise to the top, we
Know the televised revolution will not, be
So don′t play witcha mans
I write salient raps
Till there's overwhelming pain in my hands
Pack a champion sound
Gallivanting about ya town
Vapid ass clowns gettin′ smacked in the mouth
I'm out