Michael Camden - Goodnight by Michael Camden Lyrics
[Verse]
Look!
I grabbed you
Outta your seat and beat you
Until you weren’t able to breathe
Images of beatings
Abusive on the mic
It’s feeding time
Demons reeking
The smell is awful!
But I ain’t leaving
Until I have your corps
Whore
I got the chopper blades
Ready for more
So fly over me
You’ll get cut down whore
Snorts your blood
Oh Lord!
Now my thots soar!
Through the sky
Chop it up like Coke
Into four lines
I want more
I’m like an addict
It’s fantastic
A rapping fanatic
Baby I’m batting
It’s outta the park
It saddens me
With the lazyness
It’s like these rappers would rather
Fake and say they got a hoe, but really they in the basement fapping
You faggots are matched up maggots
Looking the same!
Claiming to be good at rapping
But you won’t show it
Cause your record labels know it!
That the kids don’t like to think
So they blow it
And start to mumble and binge on a cock
Man, fuck you all
I ain’t hot! But I got the bars that’ll melt your hand if you try to touch the shit
Just watch!
I'mma be on your TV one day
Scheming to take over the world
Leaping for the next shot!
It’s heating up
For anyone it’s fun
When I get up on this mic and make you all run, trip and fall. Like you was on the rum. You want sum?
Sum of what? Son!
I'mma make it to the top
Summit it ain’t right
Gunning like the gunner
But ain’t no bitch
Alright!
Lyrical rain!
Falling like stone
Get outta me way
I’m ready to go
Fuck outta my face
I got the bone
Dawg so chase it
You wastes of space
I’m Hawkins! In a wheelchair
Still whooping your ass! You basic
Bitch, basically
You’re a dick, with about an inch of respect!
Which means you a pussy
And i'mma take this knife and cut your dick off, bet!
You don’t need it anyways
You’re a virgin for life
Am I talking to you or myself?!
Yikes! I don’t really know
B-B-B-B-B-B-But like
I got the chainsaw
I'mma cut off your eyes
All of y’all are sickening
Vomit on the floor
I’m Picketing
Pockets
Listeners got it
I’m listing these rappers
I'mma be shot up
Home I’ve brought up
A lot of gossip
“I’m god sent”
No I’m satan
You got a problem
I gotta lotta
Little ideas to make ya traumatized
Momma
Little fatha'
Can’t fathom
That little focus be rapping
And snapping on mics
Grabbing all your necks and leaving em backwards tonight!
So, Goodnight
Look!
I grabbed you
Outta your seat and beat you
Until you weren’t able to breathe
Images of beatings
Abusive on the mic
It’s feeding time
Demons reeking
The smell is awful!
But I ain’t leaving
Until I have your corps
Whore
I got the chopper blades
Ready for more
So fly over me
You’ll get cut down whore
Snorts your blood
Oh Lord!
Now my thots soar!
Through the sky
Chop it up like Coke
Into four lines
I want more
I’m like an addict
It’s fantastic
A rapping fanatic
Baby I’m batting
It’s outta the park
It saddens me
With the lazyness
It’s like these rappers would rather
Fake and say they got a hoe, but really they in the basement fapping
You faggots are matched up maggots
Looking the same!
Claiming to be good at rapping
But you won’t show it
Cause your record labels know it!
That the kids don’t like to think
So they blow it
And start to mumble and binge on a cock
Man, fuck you all
I ain’t hot! But I got the bars that’ll melt your hand if you try to touch the shit
Just watch!
I'mma be on your TV one day
Scheming to take over the world
Leaping for the next shot!
It’s heating up
For anyone it’s fun
When I get up on this mic and make you all run, trip and fall. Like you was on the rum. You want sum?
Sum of what? Son!
I'mma make it to the top
Summit it ain’t right
Gunning like the gunner
But ain’t no bitch
Alright!
Lyrical rain!
Falling like stone
Get outta me way
I’m ready to go
Fuck outta my face
I got the bone
Dawg so chase it
You wastes of space
I’m Hawkins! In a wheelchair
Still whooping your ass! You basic
Bitch, basically
You’re a dick, with about an inch of respect!
Which means you a pussy
And i'mma take this knife and cut your dick off, bet!
You don’t need it anyways
You’re a virgin for life
Am I talking to you or myself?!
Yikes! I don’t really know
B-B-B-B-B-B-But like
I got the chainsaw
I'mma cut off your eyes
All of y’all are sickening
Vomit on the floor
I’m Picketing
Pockets
Listeners got it
I’m listing these rappers
I'mma be shot up
Home I’ve brought up
A lot of gossip
“I’m god sent”
No I’m satan
You got a problem
I gotta lotta
Little ideas to make ya traumatized
Momma
Little fatha'
Can’t fathom
That little focus be rapping
And snapping on mics
Grabbing all your necks and leaving em backwards tonight!
So, Goodnight