Busdriver – Bottom Bitch (OG Version) lyrics

Guess...what Spoiler..?
alert I
came here to titty twist saliva glands So
place your bets save, your breath and hissy fit firebrand I
can’t entertain these eery rock’n’roll staples Like
spendthrift I, spin discs on periodical tables Take
the basejump that makes you barf Wheathins Your
showreel’s bone meal under the stage lights My
everyday’s a coming-o-age cunt’s carpe diem And
this is why I treat LA like She…

my bottom bitch cuz, you my bottom bitch Its
safe to say what you think I’m saying’s a crock of shit Because
we fight a lot like this was Gaza Strip But
you my bottom bitch watch me make these chocolate chips You
my bottom bitch why, you my bottom bitch Oh?
Because! you think I’m the source of all awesomeness So
be my bottom bitch come and be my bottom bitch I

look good in print so I keep the desk light always on Here’s
a glimpse into the sexlife of automatons My
every evening is an M night Shyamalan Lackluster
ending where I spend nights at Comiccon I
ain’t from here I’m, from some ragtag ferris wheel I
blew the horn ‘cuz you were born smack dab in squaresville For
a limited time you get to view the purple lotus Plus
I give soulseekers that Youtuberculosis Y’all
polish wood and just leave a sleek finish But
I’ll score Bollywood when my mood piece is finished I
don’t acknowledge hoods I eat good and speak Finish With
secret sects on Meet the Press yet please the left and tease cynics Teen
sex and free clinics is your town’s greatest resource As
if falling off’s a motherfucking team sport So
I entertain the young star baby gaga grudge match which tugs at The
lumbar ganglia so, I’m hunchbacked You

my bottom You ..my bottom You ..
my bottom botch LA, you my bottom bitch To
love me your heart most be bottomless But
to me you are precious I’m, on some Gollum shit But
you my bottom bitch from top to the bottom bitch You
my bottom bitch yes, you are Them
other niggas don’t hustle they just cotton pick But
me honey I, bathe in lava pits You

can not break the budgetary woes so your live band’s on a charter bus Openers
get poked with spurs screaming ‘I am Spartacus’ I
put a fine comb to the flightplan of you starter-ups They
need rides home when I’m in Iceland in armored trucks Rolling
up to places on that VIP shit Head’s
swivel I, wet my whistle with these ice tea sips You’ll
offer me a loaf of bread a cot and a sofa bed Cuz
your scene’s dying in need of an IV drip And
I’m Chinese medicine you, guys need to headspin When
I press buttons Yet
nine times out of ten this LA tea party swabs balls So
I’m Lee Harvey Oswald with a call time Fall
in line youngin’ because I’m posted at the speedtrap I’ve
been here so long my nigga that I bleed tree sap You
overdressed sleestaks rap with swollen urinary tracks You’re
very wack give, me my scene back