Nothin' But Business - Slaine

Microphone check 1, 2, what is this?

Microphone check 1, 2, what is this?

YEAH!

I’m the stage crasher

High out my mind at the rave bastard

Despised by the mass-media call the gay basher

Every statement that I make stays for days after

Internet pussies LOLin with the brave laughter

Some backpacker try an battle me i’ll slap ya

This me, This is how I had ta be, I mean it has ta

Every minute I’m alive is an obscene disaster

I like the dark, it’s in my heart, fuck a greener pasture

I’m withdrawn from all the fucking shit I’m on

Living wrong, hear my hatred seep through every bitter song

Sleep on me, you’re a sheep, you’re a coward, I’m a creep

Hold a blade to your neck, shove it in deep

My records runnin' the streets, reckless son of a beach, punned up freak

Only dealin' G’s that’s my steez, I make a hundred a week

Dime pieces suck me 'til I come in the cheek, under the sheets

Dumb as they can be they call it ignorance, it’s money to me

Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me

I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me

Microphone check 1, 2, what is this?

You can take it personal it’s nothing but business

A little weed smoke, and some liquor

Throw your motherfucking hands in the air

We got a eight ball and some bitches

Put your motherfucking hands in the air

Wow, lost in the high wave

Amber Rose smirnoff shots top with high grain

Two hoes they tops exposed low grade

C’s D’s and ass with a pro rate

You playin' a probate, lockin her to the home

I’m letting her live the porn way, she locked to a bone

I’m menage in my home, you moist palm and grown

With your wife in the next room playing BR’s songs

You playing all wrong, she ain’t paying the coaches salary

Can’t be Mickey and Mallory no more

Just pimpin' at my home with a flat in Cabo

They fax my next flow, flip text with escrows, so pass the XO

I’m drunk and it doesn’t bother me

Since I ain’t living in poverty no more

This the panoramic roof with the two tone flow

And I don’t need to know shit if I do know dough

So

Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me

I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me

Microphone check 1, 2, what is this?

You can take it personal it’s nothing but business

A little weed smoke, and some liquor

Throw your motherfucking hands in the air

We got a eight ball and some bitches

Put your motherfucking hands in the air

Who’s nastier?, No one spit the news raspier

I’ll chew half of ya

My crews after you, Massacre

In the street making cake flip, No spatula

Passenger, In the acura with a after puff

Laughing, But ain’t nothing funny but the money

I’m hungry, You give me counterfeit you take it from me

I throw your ass off a fucking bridge and cut the bungees

Spit a lungie from my tummy on your corpse you fucking dummy

If you do survive you be looking like the mummy

The new Hefner, turn your bitch into my bunny

Pour some gin for me, Patrone second round

Grey Goose 80 proof mix it up, Put it down

Ahh throw your hands up, throw your grands up

Get your man smacked just for tryin to hand cuff

Get a damn slut to get my glands buffed in my man’s truck

On the camera, that’s the plan it’s your man Knuck

Fuck the world dog I’m staying with the cash on me

I ain’t hard to find, go ahead and ask for me

Microphone check 1, 2, what is this?

You can take it personal it’s nothing but business

A little weed smoke, and some liquor

Throw your motherfucking hands in the air

We got a eight ball and some bitches

Put your motherfucking hands in the air