Spider Hole
๐ต 2012 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:41 duration
๐ ID: 2198058
๐ Lyrics
Holdin' my breath in the crawl space, weight taped to my body
Barbarians at the gate, Benghazi
Wait, tape ain't even out yet, how the hell they get a copy?
Survived by the grace, Grace Mugabe
Averted eyes advised passin' through the building lobby
You don't want smoke?
National Geographic negroes cookin' coke
Anthropologists watchin' negroes sell dope
A huddled coroner's corner store, jottin' notes
Hand to hand, much as they forefathers before
It's a good trope, trope (It's a good trope)
Fascinating stuff
Thumb and forefinger where the cobra clutch
Four million USD hoverin' over some mud huts, it's nuts
It's not the heat, it's the dust
Sour when the wind gust, crush
Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
I don't wanna go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with most of y'all
"Don't call me again" what I shoulda said when he called
Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
I don't want to go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with none of y'all
"Don't call me again" what I'll say when you call
It's just me in the spider hole, that's the best part
From here, the war seem really far, the mirror was as sharp
No beef, I cooked the chicken in lard
Crept in your house like a thief, propped your window ajar
First time I saw them put a trap in the car, eyes wide
Felt like the internet, snipers in the minaret
Little tiny spoon for the mignonette
The job was to sit there all day and press refresh
Decline politely, proceeded to spread the blame widely
Rubber gloves, crisp lapels
Bloodshot in high society, you know his turds don't smell
To the desperate, sold spells
Confident I'd never see him again
And if so, what? You get what you paid for in the end
Yeah, she's got her own game goin' on
What does that mean?
You know what it means
You've got your own game goin' on
I've got my game
What- what's, uh, what's your game?
Everybody's got a game
Barbarians at the gate, Benghazi
Wait, tape ain't even out yet, how the hell they get a copy?
Survived by the grace, Grace Mugabe
Averted eyes advised passin' through the building lobby
You don't want smoke?
National Geographic negroes cookin' coke
Anthropologists watchin' negroes sell dope
A huddled coroner's corner store, jottin' notes
Hand to hand, much as they forefathers before
It's a good trope, trope (It's a good trope)
Fascinating stuff
Thumb and forefinger where the cobra clutch
Four million USD hoverin' over some mud huts, it's nuts
It's not the heat, it's the dust
Sour when the wind gust, crush
Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
I don't wanna go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with most of y'all
"Don't call me again" what I shoulda said when he called
Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
I don't want to go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with none of y'all
"Don't call me again" what I'll say when you call
It's just me in the spider hole, that's the best part
From here, the war seem really far, the mirror was as sharp
No beef, I cooked the chicken in lard
Crept in your house like a thief, propped your window ajar
First time I saw them put a trap in the car, eyes wide
Felt like the internet, snipers in the minaret
Little tiny spoon for the mignonette
The job was to sit there all day and press refresh
Decline politely, proceeded to spread the blame widely
Rubber gloves, crisp lapels
Bloodshot in high society, you know his turds don't smell
To the desperate, sold spells
Confident I'd never see him again
And if so, what? You get what you paid for in the end
Yeah, she's got her own game goin' on
What does that mean?
You know what it means
You've got your own game goin' on
I've got my game
What- what's, uh, what's your game?
Everybody's got a game
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:36.45] Holdin' my breath in the crawl space, weight taped to my body
[00:40.58] Barbarians at the gate, Benghazi
[00:43.23] Wait, tape ain't even out yet, how the hell they get a copy?
[00:47.26] Survived by the grace, Grace Mugabe
[00:49.85] Averted eyes advised passin' through the building lobby
[00:53.29] You don't want smoke?
[00:55.02] National Geographic negroes cookin' coke
[00:58.56] Anthropologists watchin' negroes sell dope
[01:01.07] A huddled coroner's corner store, jottin' notes
[01:04.05] Hand to hand, much as they forefathers before
[01:07.06] It's a good trope, trope (It's a good trope)
[01:09.50] Fascinating stuff
[01:11.17] Thumb and forefinger where the cobra clutch
[01:14.13] Four million USD hoverin' over some mud huts, it's nuts
[01:18.20] It's not the heat, it's the dust
[01:20.48] Sour when the wind gust, crush
[01:31.75] Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
[01:35.42] I don't wanna go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
[01:40.30] No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with most of y'all
[01:44.75] "Don't call me again" what I shoulda said when he called
[01:50.48]
[01:59.21] Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
[02:03.27] I don't want to go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
[02:07.71] No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with none of y'all
[02:12.66] "Don't call me again" what I'll say when you call
[02:17.58] It's just me in the spider hole, that's the best part
[02:21.69] From here, the war seem really far, the mirror was as sharp
[02:26.57] No beef, I cooked the chicken in lard
[02:29.50] Crept in your house like a thief, propped your window ajar
[02:32.53] First time I saw them put a trap in the car, eyes wide
[02:36.41] Felt like the internet, snipers in the minaret
[02:40.01] Little tiny spoon for the mignonette
[02:42.19] The job was to sit there all day and press refresh
[02:45.40] Decline politely, proceeded to spread the blame widely
[02:49.85] Rubber gloves, crisp lapels
[02:52.85] Bloodshot in high society, you know his turds don't smell
[02:56.35] To the desperate, sold spells
[02:59.25] Confident I'd never see him again
[03:01.18] And if so, what? You get what you paid for in the end
[03:16.72] Yeah, she's got her own game goin' on
[03:18.52] What does that mean?
[03:22.83] You know what it means
[03:24.18] You've got your own game goin' on
[03:27.03] I've got my game
[03:31.00] What- what's, uh, what's your game?
[03:37.62] Everybody's got a game
[03:39.53]
[00:40.58] Barbarians at the gate, Benghazi
[00:43.23] Wait, tape ain't even out yet, how the hell they get a copy?
[00:47.26] Survived by the grace, Grace Mugabe
[00:49.85] Averted eyes advised passin' through the building lobby
[00:53.29] You don't want smoke?
[00:55.02] National Geographic negroes cookin' coke
[00:58.56] Anthropologists watchin' negroes sell dope
[01:01.07] A huddled coroner's corner store, jottin' notes
[01:04.05] Hand to hand, much as they forefathers before
[01:07.06] It's a good trope, trope (It's a good trope)
[01:09.50] Fascinating stuff
[01:11.17] Thumb and forefinger where the cobra clutch
[01:14.13] Four million USD hoverin' over some mud huts, it's nuts
[01:18.20] It's not the heat, it's the dust
[01:20.48] Sour when the wind gust, crush
[01:31.75] Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
[01:35.42] I don't wanna go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
[01:40.30] No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with most of y'all
[01:44.75] "Don't call me again" what I shoulda said when he called
[01:50.48]
[01:59.21] Wry smile, coppin' legal weed from fake hole in the wall
[02:03.27] I don't want to go see Nas with an orchestra at Carnegie Hall
[02:07.71] No man of the people, I wouldn't be caught dead with none of y'all
[02:12.66] "Don't call me again" what I'll say when you call
[02:17.58] It's just me in the spider hole, that's the best part
[02:21.69] From here, the war seem really far, the mirror was as sharp
[02:26.57] No beef, I cooked the chicken in lard
[02:29.50] Crept in your house like a thief, propped your window ajar
[02:32.53] First time I saw them put a trap in the car, eyes wide
[02:36.41] Felt like the internet, snipers in the minaret
[02:40.01] Little tiny spoon for the mignonette
[02:42.19] The job was to sit there all day and press refresh
[02:45.40] Decline politely, proceeded to spread the blame widely
[02:49.85] Rubber gloves, crisp lapels
[02:52.85] Bloodshot in high society, you know his turds don't smell
[02:56.35] To the desperate, sold spells
[02:59.25] Confident I'd never see him again
[03:01.18] And if so, what? You get what you paid for in the end
[03:16.72] Yeah, she's got her own game goin' on
[03:18.52] What does that mean?
[03:22.83] You know what it means
[03:24.18] You've got your own game goin' on
[03:27.03] I've got my game
[03:31.00] What- what's, uh, what's your game?
[03:37.62] Everybody's got a game
[03:39.53]