Текст песни She Wants Everything (Wax) с переводом

No smoking in the house

There’s no smoking in the house

So would you please put it out?

I’m a animal nobody knows about like a lemur

That might wild the fuck out and kick you in the femur

Your girl said she a dreamer

I told her the closest she gon' get to that rock 'n' roll fame is this

Cleveland steamer

Urban Dictionary that

Your bitch is very fat

On this dick is where she at

And to think you thought she was a church girl

Well she just gave her hotel information to my merch girl

Comfort Inn, room 703

Old school, no card, just a regular key

Most of America ain’t checking for me

'Cause even my dumb shit is too much for 'em intellectually

So I’m, unappreciated like a bass solo

K Solo, or a porn star’s face photo

Get out of Kansas and visit some other states, Toto

Start following Drake’s motto or stay so-so

I was rhyming on the track

Way back when your mother’s hymen was intact

Yo you probably shouldn’t rap 'cause your words are wack

You need to find yourself a Cyrano de Bergerac

Or maybe you need to give up

You repeatedly suck

You in the league of a duck

You a measly schmuck

If you was speedily struck by a GMC truck

I wouldn’t give one flying sixteenth of a fuck, nada

As far as new rappers I don’t like none of 'em

I could single-handedly dismantle every one of 'em

I make fun of 'em and give zero fucks

I hate whoever you like, I think your heroes suck

I send 'em a old-fashioned «fuck you» like middle fingers

Thrown up by little old ladies with brittle fingers

Deadly like them little stingers on top of a scorpion

Or being at an appointment with Dr. Kevorkian

I make the best polka player drop his accordion

I make the best poker player stop with the tournaments

And switch to nickel slots at the Orleans

You wanna fuck with me you best cop a DeLorean

And go back in time and find the first time my young mind was inclined to rhyme

And feed it cyanide

And I know this a rhyme not a diatribe

But you are inscribed on the list of people I am not inspired by

I rap considerably well

So if you’re considered hot then consider me hell

I’ve been cracked for awhile like the Liberty Bell

You’re a story of regret people bitterly tell

You done nothing cool

You’re a fucking fool

You’re an example of the failure of the American public school

Yo, I will whoop your small fry ass

And then I’ll mount you on my mantle like a walleye bass

But honestly I want peace, like Gandhi’s dream

But when I see these wack rappers I get oddly mean

If I see 'em on my screen, I’ll probably scream

It makes me want to turn the game to a zombie scene

Leg sweep 'em til they topple like a Ponzi scheme

I mix the old and the new, I’m a Fonzie meme

I’m a dubstep version of the Cosby theme

An iPhone 6 case that’s Bing Crosby themed

A cross between Nas and Gene Krupa

My team super

You’s an oompa loompa

Whose sweeter than a Chupa Chup bruh

Know what you should do bruh?

Go to Islamabad

Stand in the promenade and scream «Muhammad's not a god»

Aww

Aren’t you cute?

Kneeling in the desert in that orange jumpsuit

I’ll probably see you next when we’re in hell

I’ll be selling portable fans

Holler if you need an extra Duracell

'Cause I’ma sell those too

I’ll be the reason hell’s hot and that hell froze too

Give a fuck who you know or who the hell knows you

You got the type of face people put elbows through

With no strings attached like a velcro shoe

Or how Run DMC wore the shell-toed shoe

When I rap I take you back to when it felt so new

With loads of hot goo I will pelt yo boo

It goes, shot, shot, shot

Like Mario Lemieux

Middle of the nipple and the areola too

Prepare to roll a few when my album leak

And make like a falcon beak atop a mountain peak that chirps how Alvin speaks

My voice projects, in an old school way

Like overheads

And goes over heads

Well of course over your head’s where my lyricism’s going

When your head level’s so low it appears that you’re limboing

Never tip-toeing

I’m a book that’s ripped open

The lettering is blotchy with burn holes from smoking

You say no regrets

I say you must be joking

I squandered a lot so now I ponder a lot, like

That opportunity, could’ve surely paid off

Could’ve been big in the biz like Irving Azoff

Get away with more loot than Bernie Madoff

Dolphin face plates I’d be eating birthday cake off

But I ain’t tryna let them guys in suits

Walk all over me like Thai masseuses

Hollywood is full of rich, fat, old dudes

Pointing at their trophy wives like «I met that bitch at Whole Foods»

They say things like «let's be in touch»

And get nothing but the finger like when lesbians touch

I don’t walk around town as a pedestrian much

I don’t place value on trophies thespians clutch

Not a bat of the eyes at the academy prize

The hype’s horse shit

The flattery’s lies

So if your mic’s cordless I hope your battery dies

It’s that type of performance I badly despise

Tell a critic write a song

Tell a blogger to perform it live

They’d have better luck playing Frogger on the 405

You don’t stand on any ground on which to base judgments

Or stand underground as if you judge basements

Your list make these rappers conceited

High up in the ranks when they should be unseated

They overrated like french fries at In-N-Out

Or some other shit that I don’t give a fucking shit about

You bloody marks are all snark

I can see you sippin' Cutty Sark in a golf cart

So meet me at the hipster bar and have a pickle back shot

I fucked your sister in her car back when Nickelback was hot

Back when me and Herbs would just kick it at the spot

With a 40 ounce of Mickies and a nickel sack of pot

But it’s different now

In certain kinds of ways

Except that we still be blurting lines for days

And stepping out of that purple kind of haze

Only thing changed is the phrase «no smoking in the house»

No smoking in the house (x5)

Please put it out, please put it out

Y’all little like Ford Fiats

Every track we drop are Basquiats, you biotch

You little like Ford Fiats

The tracks we drop are Basquiats, you biotch

We tall like pogo and Pau Gasol

Y’all bring beef like it’s Fogo de Chão involved

Wax and Herbal T!

We in this bitch!

When we was little we was standing in the middle of the court and off we took

Pledge allegiance to the funk in every region where the left hand’s on the book

We stick together like bird’s of a feather 'cause we are family

And ain’t a damn thing changed except for one new policy

There’s no smoking in the house

(No smoking in the house) — x1

No smoking in the house

(No smoking in the house) — x3

No Smoking in the house

You gotta respect the children

The seeds of the funk trees

Let them decide for themselves what kind of poisonous nonsense they wanna put

in they lungs

As for myself I be smoking moonrocks

And I’m high as a motherfucker

Wax and Herbal T guide me through this absurd thing called life

And I am thankful for the funketh they giveth

Let’s do this baby

When we was little we was standing in the middle

Of the court and off we took (we gotta take off)

Pledge Allegiance to the funk in every region where

The left hand’s on the book (left hand’s on the book, yeah)

We stick together like bird’s of a feather

Cause we are family (family)

And ain’t a damn thing changed

Except for just one new policy

There’s no smoking in the house

Because now there’s children there

I just wanna pay my debts off without a bill to spare

Whether I’m a tax attorney of a giant billionaire

Or I practice taxidermy and my client killed a bear

I just don’t have the will to care

And I always say I’ll wait till tomorrow like I’m Silverchair

«Change, change, change» my mind repeats

Sounding like a scratched vinyl record of an old Obama speech

One last record then I’ll quit the touring life

Then I’ll go and get domesticated with a boring wife

People say «His career really took off when he stopped

Rapping and entered that chili cook-off»

He really took the golf nasty with a pitching wedge

The game ends and the fun fades

As I tell my lame friends about my son’s grades

But one day it’s back to the bottle

Fall off the wagon, horsepower, full throttle

'Cause living with sobriety’s excruciating pain

And the thing I desire’s a hallucinating brain

I’ll even get a tribal doctor to vouch

Ayahuasca on the couch next to Oscar the Grouch

Enough Molly to probably convert my posture to slouch

I’ll sit tight, shit right in a colostomy pouch

Senior citizen livin' off moonshine and pizza

Hookers at noontime, mainline Levitra

And when I finally develop emphysema

I’ll buy a shotgun for permanent anesthesia

It won’t matter, I’m an organ donor

Hunched over in the corner when the coroner comes over

And sees me covered in blood like a maniac’s bib

After treating a baby like a baby back rib

As he looks around at my insanely wack crib

And it looks like a place where someone who smoked crack lived

He sees writings on the wall looking like mad libs

Nonsensical, rhymes parenthetical, ad-libs

And he sees the whole scene, it flashes

His mind rehashes where he

Blood splashes

The coffee table glass crashes

But he ain’t gonna see no ashes

No smoking in the house

Don’t even waste my time

I ain’t the patient kind

You must be out your mind

Telling me them fucking lies