Komodo Saliva

Lyrics

[Ramson Badbonez] So what's the hold up? Zoning out in comas, fluffy coke to blow your nose up Losing my composure in a moment smack the pope up Grab the hoe another smoke up Badbonez engineering man-sized low costs A ring-a-roses, pocket full of posies from celebrities in showbiz Anything they sold is owned and everything is coded Plus like Imacs and phone chips Burning skids in all directions like a Tokyo drift [Heads are dosage?], simple thinking, fickle known Questionings to others Unpredictable fuckers Like redneck bump truckers Fucking up all of corruption Morph into flames like spontaneous human combustion There's no fresh trust Promises that weak MC's are waking up in cold sweats They yellow sheets from damp and wet dreams of having slow-mo sex Hang with smoke heads like coat pegs Forget a protest we're gunning for the most [feds?] Set the blame, rich and wealthy dames Got me repositioning my aim Grey rays ripping their pretty picture out the frame Unobtained literature to gain Claimed they didn't know my name Until they kissed the shitty stain Fuck your line up Price I'm Indonesian Komodo Saliva Component combined though when I live inside the [gyver?] Lighting up guys that bite butts Ramson Badbonez with a tight clutch Fuck the white stuff [Scratches] x2 "There's a war outside, no man is safe..." "What more can I say?..." "Value up quick..." "Hold up.." "Take full aim..." "Rapper in the game..." [Res One] So what's the wait for? I make these fake fashionista rappers take a great pause We came to rearrange the gameboard So place your pieces, my feces is [beat-leeches?] They're preaching their street demons Who eat off the weed dealing But pee when they see beefing Me I seek the pieces Operation Light One Where coppers make your tight lungs tighter And you ignite one so I'm high strung like pylons Buzzing with the capacity to shock a rapper snatching his Lines of high calorie Grindin' like [Mike Harold?] be I'm cooking to the core Cooking bookings for the cause On some full heat Melting a mic into my finger tips See I stink of piff Most of times Swinging through the trees until I broke the vines I got a motor mind Thoughts racing, hold your lines Wars waiting over time, tryna keep my cause On its course and fuck a court appearance, roll 'em right It's Fingerfood for the open types [Scratches] "Thinking its a hold up..." "Yeah your rap style's bad enough..."