곡 정보

Verse 1
Yeah
The stewardess screams Stay back he ain't welcome in Gatwick
Captain, pull out the hatchet
Scalp that child, rip holes in his fabrics
Slip that clingfilm outta the wallet
Flip that switch, now we're all psychotic
A gurgling drainpipe sounds hypnotic
Stain on the pavement becomes iconic
The lights dim and the hummingbird whispers
Them man are all feds and they're deeply religious
You are their Damien, this is your sickness
Pinhole cameras stitched in your fingers
Had some pilled up, threesome at Christmas
Now I'm at departures deleting the pictures
Fry my face up
Eating the witness
They're gonna hang you
Plead for forgiveness
Swinging from a plank in Dubai in these ten ton sandals
Bright red sand in the mouth, I was chewing through handfuls
That shopfront mannequin just told me they'll be coming for my neckline
I just saw an ice cold summer in my red wine
They ain't on side, I ain't fucking with 'em next time
Them four hookers must of been working for the feds
Cackling on Green Lanes, worshipping the dead
With these jet black choppers all circling our heads
In economy, drunk and asleep
Bunch of miniatures dumped at my feet
Reality's boarded a flight to Bermuda and crumbled to dust in his seat
Eh

Hook
Sock in the mouth
Get the fuck out the terminal
You left your mind at a shotter's in South
Minor malfunction
Keep me on pause
Internal combustion
Yeah
Flesh on the floors

Verse 2
Smashing the rush of it
Couple of silhouettes stuck in it
I will question this chick 'til she cracks and admits she spy with a gun in her underwear
The lady in pink is a fraud and a liar
Text all your bredrins and call 'em Messiah
Your body erupted this song in it's sleep
Your various guises are forming a choir
He walks waist deep in the floor, see the ripples in the marble
Took one more line then fired every missile in the arsenal
Wear the room like a fishnet
Face tangled in half-spun silk
On the curb pulling cards from a trick deck
Front-crawling in last month's milk
The kid sneaked in with a score tryna bid for his brain back
I feel for the cheapskate
Weeks wedged under a West End manhole
Mummified wrapped up in reels of police tape
The creep at the wheel can't see straight
Ran through a whole crew of actors and stooges
All shipped in to assess the delusions
Escape with a tooth and a handful of bruises
Yeah
I was gone for a couple
Bit the pinky ring off at the knuckle
Back on the block with a muzzle, a body, an Aspide shot on a shovel
Sorry doctor, he's trouble
He suffers from temporary dementia
Created a world in the bowels of the city and plastered himself to the centre

Hook
Sock in the mouth
Get the fuck out the terminal
You left your mind at a shotter's in South
Minor malfunction
Keep me on pause
Internal combustion
Flesh on the floors

Flesh on the floors