Root Beers In Your Fridge
Title | Root Beers In Your Fridge |
---|---|
Artist | Apathy |
Album | It’s the Bootleg Muthafuckas! Vol. 1 |
Release Date | 2003-09-23 |
Description | ? |
Lyrics | [Sample: All in the Family] [Archie] "I want a beer!" [Edith] "You can have a nice lo-cal root beer." [Archie] "I'll vomit." [Intro: Celph Titled and Apathy] Uh-huh, Yea, uh, uh Shit is crazy right here, Yo Yo, Ap?, Yo, yo Let these motherfuckers know what we about to do [Chorus: Apathy] We throwin' root beers in your fridge yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? Throwin' root beers in your fridge, yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? [Verse 1: Apathy] From the most serene meadows and woods to ghettos and hoods Stilettos and gun metal crack the flower petals My power puts cracks in concrete, pushes pebbles across the beach Speech leaves you lost for weeks when I rock beats The centrifugal force will flip jeeps Wind between my lips rips the weak Apathetic is the newest addition to secret agents who Frequent the basement who, sneak in the Matrix to Destroy the mainframe and fracture your brains I'm faster than trains or supersonic passenger planes My raps are insane, deadlier than Dracula's fangs I travel at speeds that make the quickest Acura strain, and yo... [Verse 2: Celph Titled] Who you know to get more brain than a surgeon My rhymes constructed like plots I make for murderin' Insertin' clips with certain types of ammo, burstin' in Hurtin' him, throwin' speed knots at triple warp speed I force heat, down your throat until your fuckin' balls bleed The chrome depot leave you shook and ignore sleep It get more deep when I let my knife split you Jack you for your rims and put that shit on my bicycle I write riddles in crypt as Christ disciples Ignite missiles, prepare for the dirty dungaree clique Pistol whip niggas and shake 'em up until they sea sick We let the metal heat spit, leave you dead in the cement Let me ask you even, why the fuck you try to rhyme? I would have have fucked your bitch already but I only fuck dimes Celph Titled is the fine line when I design mines You might also like[Chorus: Apathy] We throwin' root beers in your fridge yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? Throwin' root beers in your fridge, yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? [Verse 3: Apathy] I hold the temperature higher than fire sent to you directly from Lucifer Movin' muscles like involuntary twitches I'm vicious Take your missus right from under your nose, no wonder your hoes Are backstage at one of our shows, runnin' the clothes At close range, flows blow apart most brains I can boast that I'm better than most up in the game My flow's tight, I could ghost write for the most hype Bite and I'll show you what Mike Tyson fights are like My pen crafted, raps that been drafted To smack your grill 'til you're havin' your skin grafted Suckers will get snuffed for fuckin' with me With cops puttin' up tape sayin', "There's nothin' to see." 'Cause I'm so damn fly I got the brain of an astronaut Raps that are tougher than a chain with a Master Lock Tracks that are deadlier than killers with gats that cock Ap drops raps underground like Fraggle Rock Cats battle blocks comin' in fly stealth Got the mics warmed up before I pass it to Celph (yo, yo) [Verse 4: Celph Titled] I don't think like an MC and I don't think like a thug I think like a killer leavin' blood stains on your rug The type to... smoke on a pipe bomb and detonate a cigar Use your credit card and leave you in the trunk of a rental car When flippin' bars I be spittin' farther than the trip to Mars My style hittin' hard, underground superstar Shootin' darts accurate, credits on the back of every Record jacket that you own, I'm [?] without the chrome I'm from the place where they eat kids and barbecue their bones Fuck Indiana Jones this'll be your Last Crusade My whole brigade will rage a spot and leave a live grenade Top of the accolade, callin' for your battle aid My gat'll spray up into any adversary Do whatever it takes to get support that's monetary I'm out for the loot, move to quick and I'll shoot I should of cut your head off for gettin' blood on my boots I sleep with a rifle and count sheep with a scope Stabbin' you with a syringe give you disease with no hope [Chorus: Apathy] We throwin' root beers in your fridge yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? Throwin' root beers in your fridge, yo We throwin' root beers in your fridge and... What happens when we battle all you little sucker kids? |