Ay - Cult Mountain

Just because I end a statement with «mate» doesn’t make ya me mate

I snatched the steak from your plate, then slap you in the face

They call me Nigel Mansell-'tache

With jazz in the background, fondling a bag of cash

And you don’t need to be told but I’m rare

Me blood coagulates into solid gold when exposed to the air

I burn trees, and blame Smokey the Bear

I’ve got flair, but the rest of me’s not there

I’ll be as happy as Pharrell once I stop larrying to Hell

Jack your stash of Gary’s and Valiums to sell

To meself, to help with the grief

While I’m dragging a gazelle by it’s hind legs with my teeth

«V» is for the Vallies, I need to forget the women

Who are now me exes, 'cause I couldn’t make it off the Z-list

And cult road man don’t slow dance with the money crop

And get caught, with both hands in the honey pot

I woke up, and hit the snooze button

This beat, makes me wanna sing the blues fuckin'

I tried to walk away but I stumbled like Macy Gray

I wrote this verse quicker than the time it takes to say

Aye, aye yo

It’ll be okay if we say so

Pay slow, we wanna war but we don’t wanna pay though

Ohh, today was a good day, today was a good day

Today was a good day, today was a good day

Yo, all these bitches wanna blow me off

They say I’m a nice guy, no I’m not

Okay I get it, it’s the D I give 'em

You say you want realism, I’m what real-isn't

That’s real noble of you Trell

Just tell it how it is, I hope no one’s doin' well

People tell me just knowing me is swell

Throw your bitch a white tee, a super soaker would’ve helped

(Wow) She got a hell of a rack

Intelligent?

Of course not, she’s a Trellion fan

I called Scott, what’s the mot' kidda

He said «Where you at?», I said I’m off the coast kidda

Bring bitches, ones who cook roast dinners

And roll Swishers, and only drink Olde English

In gold pimp cups

Wrestle Jaws to the cooking song

Lose a leg and carry on like there’s nothing wrong

Fuck rap, lets make Russian Donk

I moved out to Moscow like someone put me on

People often ask me what the fuck I’m on

My reply: «just your mum»

I’m fuckin' dumb

I try think of clever shit but nothin' comes

So I stick with what I know, nothin' much

Your girl might not swallow when I bust a nut

But tell her if her cookin' sucks, I’ma fuck her up

Like aye, aye yo, bitch, don’t ever bring me my steak cold

You better do what I say hoe

Or underneath a gravestone’s where you’ll lay holmes

But today was a good day, today was a good day

I didn’t even use my AK, I guess today was a good day

Huh, I guess I’m fast though

BMF shit, I get a half O

Buy a chain, buy a whip, but, fuck a smartphone

Cause I forget my pass code, I’m way too intelligent, shit

Bag of that fuego, I’m blazin' an element

It’s that Laigon regiment, North West resident

Gore-Tex, North Face, Cortez

I’m steppin' in the place

All-white Cortez

Turn yellow in the rave

I’m limpin' like a pimp with a cane

I’m on my Ricky James' shit sniffin' cocaine

That’s a hell of a drug, a hell of a drug

I’m benevolent but I’m an incredible cunt

Like, Cassie’s pussy

I have a kushy odour on the eds and them Xannies pushin' me over

Like, I hate being sober like Sosa

I’m all up and down

Bipolar my controller, cult Ayatollah

I am body drugged, it’s my persona

Change the channel, find the controller

I ain’t a little rat, I’m Fritz the Cat

Rock a Hitler 'tache, and keep my daughters in my Fritzl flat

Like, aye, aye yo!

Follow me deep in this cave, hoe

Like, I got my payroll

It’ll be okay if I say so

Today was a good day, today was a good day

Today was a good day, Today was a good day (or was it?)

It goes: one step, two step, three step, four step

Deliver Oz’s to your doorstep

Bitch, tell 'em who the man today

I’m at the rave, twisting J’s the size of Sandy’s brains

Yo, I tell a bitch skank away (skank bitch!)

But she’ll find me at the bar, sippin' Tanqueray

Shotty in the boot, might let it bang today

Hottie in the coup, givin' shines, made me slam the breaks

Ya bitch down to ride

Used to fucks with uppers, but now she love the downward time

Suttin', Suttin', Suttin', Cult Mountain life

Blow lines, no time for your sound advice

Plus I’m live-o, fill the styro'

I say I’m Milk, but what do I know?

Nothin'

I’m like a high rollin' cyclone

I’m on the yacht, you on the lilo

Fuck 'em

Yo Silk, pass the foil for the Oxy fix

I’m at the gate, movin' horse like a jockey’s whip

Your wife is on her knees tryna cop the dick

Look down like, sorry girl, I gots' to piss