- 歌词
- 专辑列表
- 歌手介绍
Spose
-
16 Counties
Look bud, I'm from Maine
Where ain't nobody famous
Where people move away,
and some of em' don't even claim it
Where Canadians vacation
Sit back, get hated by the waiters
Where some people are dating
even though they are related
I'm Spizzy Spose,
one of Maine's own
I slang lobster rolls before I became grown
Now my name's known,had jet planes flown
Out to L.A., and what did I do?
I came home
Pine cone aroma, and the Atlantic
It's not the Bay state, or the state made of granite
But where I first rapped, way back on my planet
My whole state behind me still,
I'm Kevin Mannix
These local cats didn't think that I could blow
They must not have been to my shows,
or my little bro's
They didn't think the kiddy could flow?
Now I look like a man like Olympia Snowe
(Hook)
So throw yo' hands in the ay-urrr (air)
If ya can't get there from hay-urrr (here)
If you sip Shipyards, and like when I spit bars
Everybody lemme hear ya say oh yay-uhh (yeah)
(Repeat 1x)
I'm from a place called Wells
Where snowballs fell
And traffic gets stalled later when it all melts
In the booth broke loose like all hell
It's all swell, rum punches with rhyme called well
And you can tell Augusta that I called to say
The following; Fuck Paul Lepage
There ain't no way that he could be from where we've all been raised
He needs to shut his fat face
and lick the balls for days
While I'm robbin' every Marden's 'till we all get paid
If that clown isn't hauled away
Bound, and drowned
Up in the Maine Mall in hollandaise
更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网
For trying to turn Maine into the Balkan States
I'm Governor Spose,
I deliver the noise
But not like Susan Collins with a quivering voice
I got a boisterous mouth,
the rap game, Portland press,
Harold and flannel apparel,and the Oyster House
Where strippers with few teeth drop it lower than the murder rate
Where the old people salty like a surfer face
If a loud sound (in their town) reverberates
I'm from where Angus King isn't a burger place
We're all looking like the opposite of fashion week
Nobody to impress but the faculty at Applebee's
So if it happened on the runway, we're the last to see
And actually we don't need fresh clothes to live happily
We keep it basic man,
in vacationland,
But all pretty lakes still got snakes in them
Single mothers discover it's not utopian
From Fort Kent, to Brunswick
where Bowdoin is
Now she's losing hope again
she let another insecure dude into the fallopians
Screams not melodious,
bruised, layin' there on the linoleum
The type of wounds that deny,
muted by Imodium
The local representative she voted in
Sugarcoated and gloated then blowed it at the podium
The promises erroneous,
Now she and her kids are in the cold again
Shivering, she's holding them,
that's what you see
you take a look behind the foliage
and see the real Maine
It's not lobster dinners,
everywhere we feel pain
I'm just sayin' what I see around me,
where they found me:
In Maine!
Put em up for the sixteen counties!
(Hook)
-
|
