Из альбома: Lord Steppington
Yo spit, this is Step Bros
The same relationship as Opio and Pep Love, I cop hieroglyphics
I pop when I walk and I break when I hit the ground
I talk like a rapper, gotta hashtag «hit the pound»
I hit the pound high and a save a dog
Bring him home and let him roam in the yard, I got a cat too
I got a permanent tattoo, of T.A.T.U. riding Tatsu
Humming, coming at you
If I had to mix it up in the pot
I’d rather smoke some pot, then say I forgot
I voted every fourth since 18 and kept voting
Really do appeal to other people that I’m «ing
Some people know me, others on that Rubik’s shit
Trying to match the color, most people can’t this shit
I used to fit the pieces of the puzzle all together
Now I bring umbrellas for the ever-changing weather
Wrote this with a feather that was kept in a Fedora
Put it back after and I never went on tour yet
One day I’ll be a tour vet, and I’m a have a deal too
And I’m a cop a crib by the beach with a real view
Melt beach, melt wax
Weed smelling like Clorox and Ajax
Melt features, felt peaches
Rodney Cooper like Smith Grinds and Laid Backs
Burn a biscuit of dope, burn a specimen
Step on your throat, step on your regiment
Cut off the competition, cut a neck
Cut a vocal, cut a record, cut a check
Write bomb threats, call (?)
Call a one-way for the jets
Step, motherfucker, step
Champion sound, cut the rim off of the net
Separate your potato head from your neck
Celebration bodies thrown off of the deck
Do Stallone numbers, gangster like Woody cologne covers
Written in my DNA, my bone structure
It’s forbidden to kill swans, unless you are a Lord
Like in India, the Noblemen can move cows; I can move swans
And take them, eat them… mmm, lunch