Pick 'em off, ye, music's like a duck hunt
Title match, tidal wave splash on you daft cunts
Count 'em up, rappers making tallies of they have nots
I'ma make some shit that I can pass down to my grandsons
We don't give a f*ck, (what) your mamma says you're handsome
(What) but here's a beat to make you mean mouth your grand mum
Bitch please like a motherf*cking anthem
And I don't feel sorry, look, I even spared a hand gun
Powerful, and I'm only messing 'round a little bit
Gotta make ya ill, feel sick 'til ya spill shit
That's how it goes, all I need's a couple bricks to build with
A couple bricks and I'ma build myself a pyramid
Look alive, I've been wrecking crowds since back in high school
Town hero, rain down on em like a typhoon
F*ck ya thinking man?
Bragging is my right
Got a phototype for my people to get hyped to
Come on
On some crazy shit, other rappers baby dick
Pussy talk, lady bits, f*ck 'em all lately it's
Like all that shit gets eighty-six, wipe 'em out, wipe 'em out
Hold up though, they baby bitch, they hidin' out, they hidin' out
But we on a higher route, we the type that's wylin' out
'Til they beg us, 'til they plead us, "Put that fire out"
I'm about to burn 'em down fire mouth
I've been singin' competition, they just lie about it
Go ahead, do your worst, I won't button my lip
First to tell ya that you never bump as large as my shit
Caveman, banging out these beats hard with my fists
So cold, you don't know we got ice dicks
Watch out now I'm over here, try and catch my drift
Runaway train, I could crash through and I hit
Oh what, you didn't know?
Pigeon hole's alive-ish
Murder, murder heat that make you leap from the hypeness
Pigeon Hole - Ice Dicks Lyrics
Pigeon Hole - Ice Dicks Lyrics
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Pick 'em off, ye, music's like a duck hunt
Title match, tidal wave splash on you daft cunts
Count 'em up, rappers making tallies of they have nots
I'ma make some shit that I can pass down to my grandsons
We don't give a f*ck, (what) your mamma says you're handsome
(What) but here's a beat to make you mean mouth your grand mum
Bitch please like a motherf*cking anthem
And I don't feel sorry, look, I even spared a hand gun
Powerful, and I'm only messing 'round a little bit
Gotta make ya ill, feel sick 'til ya spill shit
That's how it goes, all I need's a couple bricks to build with
A couple bricks and I'ma build myself a pyramid
Look alive, I've been wrecking crowds since back in high school
Town hero, rain down on em like a typhoon
F*ck ya thinking man?
Bragging is my right
Got a phototype for my people to get hyped to
Come on
On some crazy shit, other rappers baby dick
Pussy talk, lady bits, f*ck 'em all lately it's
Like all that shit gets eighty-six, wipe 'em out, wipe 'em out
Hold up though, they baby bitch, they hidin' out, they hidin' out
But we on a higher route, we the type that's wylin' out
'Til they beg us, 'til they plead us, "Put that fire out"
I'm about to burn 'em down fire mouth
I've been singin' competition, they just lie about it
Go ahead, do your worst, I won't button my lip
First to tell ya that you never bump as large as my shit
Caveman, banging out these beats hard with my fists
So cold, you don't know we got ice dicks
Watch out now I'm over here, try and catch my drift
Runaway train, I could crash through and I hit
Oh what, you didn't know?
Pigeon hole's alive-ish
Murder, murder heat that make you leap from the hypeness
Title match, tidal wave splash on you daft cunts
Count 'em up, rappers making tallies of they have nots
I'ma make some shit that I can pass down to my grandsons
We don't give a f*ck, (what) your mamma says you're handsome
(What) but here's a beat to make you mean mouth your grand mum
Bitch please like a motherf*cking anthem
And I don't feel sorry, look, I even spared a hand gun
Powerful, and I'm only messing 'round a little bit
Gotta make ya ill, feel sick 'til ya spill shit
That's how it goes, all I need's a couple bricks to build with
A couple bricks and I'ma build myself a pyramid
Look alive, I've been wrecking crowds since back in high school
Town hero, rain down on em like a typhoon
F*ck ya thinking man?
Bragging is my right
Got a phototype for my people to get hyped to
Come on
On some crazy shit, other rappers baby dick
Pussy talk, lady bits, f*ck 'em all lately it's
Like all that shit gets eighty-six, wipe 'em out, wipe 'em out
Hold up though, they baby bitch, they hidin' out, they hidin' out
But we on a higher route, we the type that's wylin' out
'Til they beg us, 'til they plead us, "Put that fire out"
I'm about to burn 'em down fire mouth
I've been singin' competition, they just lie about it
Go ahead, do your worst, I won't button my lip
First to tell ya that you never bump as large as my shit
Caveman, banging out these beats hard with my fists
So cold, you don't know we got ice dicks
Watch out now I'm over here, try and catch my drift
Runaway train, I could crash through and I hit
Oh what, you didn't know?
Pigeon hole's alive-ish
Murder, murder heat that make you leap from the hypeness
Writer: Colin Michael McCue, Lee Robert Napthine
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave