[00:00.00] 作词 : Rusty Brito
[00:00.04] 作曲 : Rusty Brito
[00:00.09][JR Writer ]
[00:01.35]Live from the Kitchen, Writer's Block 4 (*coughing*) Writers Block, bitch
[00:04.80]Uhh, okay~!
[00:07.23]Live from the kitchen, I'm back scrappin, fryin and wheelin
[00:10.20]High as a pigeon, I am consistant
[00:12.42]Pow to a chicken, I backpack iron for trippin
[00:15.36]Grindin and pitchin, these rap cats lyin and snitchin
[00:18.39]From the, trip and the road where they sit in the cold
[00:21.39]Used to backstab you for the rock, quick get it home
[00:24.33]Shrimp you supposed, slip on ya Joes, skip from the pose
[00:27.48]And put you on your ass, make you slip on your toes
[00:30.21]Ho, this nigga is throwed, the sickest who else'll
[00:33.15]Put your brains on your shirt so you can think to yourself, huh?
[00:36.63]I shit on these elves, stuntin with cheddar
[00:39.06]Make it rain on his dame, put her under the weather
[00:42.09]It's a hundred or better, let it dump on whoever
[00:45.06]Any beef you know the street sweep under the lever
[00:47.91]Have fun, I'm next up, crushin in a red truck
[00:51.30]Shot swing and pop, all your weapontry collect dust
[00:54.63]Bitch I'm glistery, nothin like ya breakfast
[00:57.60]Blow my wristery the color of some egg guts (canary)
[01:00.57]More or less mark the heaval and the sickening
[01:03.00]Just listen, these niggas couldn't see me with prescriptions
[01:06.00]I'm somethin that you wanna be and nothin like a wannabe
[01:08.97]Pardon me, odds are G I plug one in your artery
[01:12.24]You'll need more triggers, I heat all spitters
[01:14.55]And like to welcome y'all to W, B-4 nigga
[01:18.30]Huhh, oh yeah nigga, I'm back in the muh'****in building
[01:22.89]You know what that muh'****in means, CHA-CHING!
[01:27.00]More commas in my muh'****in bank account you get it?
[01:30.69]Checks, them c-hecks, spell it out man
[01:34.50]You already know what it is man I'm goin in
[01:36.78]So get your muh'****in weight up man, YEAH
[01:40.47]THAT CRACK~!

作词 : Rusty Brito
作曲 : Rusty Brito
Live from the Kitchen, Writer's Block 4 (*coughing*) Writers Block, bitch
Uhh, okay~!
Live from the kitchen, I'm back scrappin, fryin and wheelin
High as a pigeon, I am consistant
Pow to a chicken, I backpack iron for trippin
Grindin and pitchin, these rap cats lyin and snitchin
From the, trip and the road where they sit in the cold
Used to backstab you for the rock, quick get it home
Shrimp you supposed, slip on ya Joes, skip from the pose
And put you on your ass, make you slip on your toes
Ho, this nigga is throwed, the sickest who else'll
Put your brains on your shirt so you can think to yourself, huh?
I shit on these elves, stuntin with cheddar
Make it rain on his dame, put her under the weather
It's a hundred or better, let it dump on whoever
Any beef you know the street sweep under the lever
Have fun, I'm next up, crushin in a red truck
Shot swing and pop, all your weapontry collect dust
Bitch I'm glistery, nothin like ya breakfast
Blow my wristery the color of some egg guts (canary)
More or less mark the heaval and the sickening
Just listen, these niggas couldn't see me with prescriptions
I'm somethin that you wanna be and nothin like a wannabe
Pardon me, odds are G I plug one in your artery
You'll need more triggers, I heat all spitters
And like to welcome y'all to W, B-4 nigga
Huhh, oh yeah nigga, I'm back in the muh'****in building
You know what that muh'****in means, CHA-CHING!
More commas in my muh'****in bank account you get it?
Checks, them c-hecks, spell it out man
You already know what it is man I'm goin in
So get your muh'****in weight up man, YEAH
THAT CRACK~!