Sweet Love Songtext
von Ugly Heroes
Sweet Love Songtext
"Don′t make me suffer guide me
Guide me baby to my friends and oooh"
1: Verbal Kent
I bet a rapper say "uncle"
Cousin and twisting his arm, wasn't a struggle
A hater make my day like Eastwood
But we good cause I′m busy frying Moby Dick
No sense crying over milk spilt
Yeah, a 16 assassin
Oswald on the pad with the pen doing it rapping
If we happen to cross paths
You better hope a fork leads the other way away from me
Cause I brought forks
I'm on the porch celebrating
Getting elevated
That ain't lemonade
Something heavyweight and medicated
Each verse dedicated to a hater thought I′d never make it
Make him take it back
Eat words, alphabet soup
Used to press my own discs up, tried to recoup
Slang ′em two for one outside of my stoup
As soon as ten moved, I headed to the top of the flat
On the roof I'm blowing smoke rings from skunk weed outside of a loop
Verbal Kent
You better give me
"Sweet love"
Yeah, that′s what you better give me
Hate on me and your homie start pouring out the Henny
Better show me
"Sweet love"
Or I'ma show you what I′ve been through
All my pain and suffering, something we could get into
Give me
"Sweet love"
Or I'ma give you hate right back
Bottle to the face, have a night cap
You know what I need
"Sweet love"
Yeah, blow a rapper kisses
Handshakes and pounds, not disses
2: Red Pill
Now tell me why the bartender′s giving me free drinks
And yet he's taxing you a dollar for that water out that sink
Cause we got that shit locked and we got that hip hop
That gets props
Doing everything your shit's not
That dude that talks the most ain′t really doing shit
That′s why I'm sitting at a show alone instead of moving lips
You rappers sucking blogger dicks
I′m chilling with some journalists watching you perform and talking shit
So let me give you a bit of critical analysis
That way you hold that microphone is on some phallic shit
That malice grip you got is known for causing calluses
That way you clutching on that tip is looking hazardous
And you're not packing shit, the club or a gun
Don′t give a fuck about your crew a fuck where you're from
Sit your angry ass down and let me show you
Uh, how to make the crowd get to know you
Motherfucker what′s up?
Guide me baby to my friends and oooh"
1: Verbal Kent
I bet a rapper say "uncle"
Cousin and twisting his arm, wasn't a struggle
A hater make my day like Eastwood
But we good cause I′m busy frying Moby Dick
No sense crying over milk spilt
Yeah, a 16 assassin
Oswald on the pad with the pen doing it rapping
If we happen to cross paths
You better hope a fork leads the other way away from me
Cause I brought forks
I'm on the porch celebrating
Getting elevated
That ain't lemonade
Something heavyweight and medicated
Each verse dedicated to a hater thought I′d never make it
Make him take it back
Eat words, alphabet soup
Used to press my own discs up, tried to recoup
Slang ′em two for one outside of my stoup
As soon as ten moved, I headed to the top of the flat
On the roof I'm blowing smoke rings from skunk weed outside of a loop
Verbal Kent
You better give me
"Sweet love"
Yeah, that′s what you better give me
Hate on me and your homie start pouring out the Henny
Better show me
"Sweet love"
Or I'ma show you what I′ve been through
All my pain and suffering, something we could get into
Give me
"Sweet love"
Or I'ma give you hate right back
Bottle to the face, have a night cap
You know what I need
"Sweet love"
Yeah, blow a rapper kisses
Handshakes and pounds, not disses
2: Red Pill
Now tell me why the bartender′s giving me free drinks
And yet he's taxing you a dollar for that water out that sink
Cause we got that shit locked and we got that hip hop
That gets props
Doing everything your shit's not
That dude that talks the most ain′t really doing shit
That′s why I'm sitting at a show alone instead of moving lips
You rappers sucking blogger dicks
I′m chilling with some journalists watching you perform and talking shit
So let me give you a bit of critical analysis
That way you hold that microphone is on some phallic shit
That malice grip you got is known for causing calluses
That way you clutching on that tip is looking hazardous
And you're not packing shit, the club or a gun
Don′t give a fuck about your crew a fuck where you're from
Sit your angry ass down and let me show you
Uh, how to make the crowd get to know you
Motherfucker what′s up?
Writer(s): Erik Vincent Stephens, Christopher Orrick, Dan Weiss Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
