| Song | Man in a Suitcase |
| Artist | Everthe8 |
| Album | 8th the Human |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Тимур Бубеев | |
| 作曲 : Тимур Бубеев | |
| Secret hook in every sticky hook, | |
| Sneaky rappers playing on the leather flute, | |
| Remind me beggars, with no attitude. | |
| Petty game changers in the belly of the fatty gay, | |
| Feces bangers, | |
| pieces stick to dicks which then stayed on fagots teeth, | |
| miss me with that coterie of codeine cocksuckers, | |
| Hollering xan hustlers | |
| Hiding in blue castles, | |
| i’m out of this, | |
| Bitch, look around. | |
| better shut your stupid mouth, | |
| before little hopie beat you down | |
| and check this out, | |
| i’m walking in the woods | |
| with the body bag, | |
| full of funny heads | |
| and severed bunny’s tails, | |
| Bite my shiny ass, | |
| Call me teddy bear | |
| In the Kanye West costume, | |
| In that teddy bear costume, | |
| In the Cornella’s cartoons. | |
| I create monsters from nightmares and complexes, | |
| feed em flesh, they killing my confidence, in consequence. | |
| vomiting blood after vodka poisoning, | |
| monstrous hangover, withdrawal and abstinence. | |
| it seems like my head is big hive | |
| These days I tried to kill the Man in a suitcase, | |
| stupid mother****er hang himself with a bootlace, | |
| To Let him rot in the ****ing tub was my mistake, | |
| And if you’re reading this it’s too late, | |
| It’s too drake, | |
| The smell is so vile, so it hurts even third eye, | |
| I had to get rid of the body back in July, | |
| Dead sociopath give problems even after dead, | |
| Even after mister monster had buried him, | |
| It’s still there. | |
| i feel it in my tummy, | |
| how he’s scratching in my guts, | |
| once i sleep, he try to sneak into my thoughts, | |
| he’s digging tunnels in my chest, | |
| Wipe the sleep out of my eyes, next, | |
| digging out the window, | |
| for uninvited guest, | |
| It’s probably been a couple days, | |
| or it’s a couple weeks, | |
| since i got ****ed up like this. | |
| nightmares and complexes. | |
| i’m having dreams where I have to literally scream | |
| myself awake. | |
| shit. |
| zuo ci : | |
| zuo qu : | |
| Secret hook in every sticky hook, | |
| Sneaky rappers playing on the leather flute, | |
| Remind me beggars, with no attitude. | |
| Petty game changers in the belly of the fatty gay, | |
| Feces bangers, | |
| pieces stick to dicks which then stayed on fagots teeth, | |
| miss me with that coterie of codeine cocksuckers, | |
| Hollering xan hustlers | |
| Hiding in blue castles, | |
| i' m out of this, | |
| Bitch, look around. | |
| better shut your stupid mouth, | |
| before little hopie beat you down | |
| and check this out, | |
| i' m walking in the woods | |
| with the body bag, | |
| full of funny heads | |
| and severed bunny' s tails, | |
| Bite my shiny ass, | |
| Call me teddy bear | |
| In the Kanye West costume, | |
| In that teddy bear costume, | |
| In the Cornella' s cartoons. | |
| I create monsters from nightmares and complexes, | |
| feed em flesh, they killing my confidence, in consequence. | |
| vomiting blood after vodka poisoning, | |
| monstrous hangover, withdrawal and abstinence. | |
| it seems like my head is big hive | |
| These days I tried to kill the Man in a suitcase, | |
| stupid mother er hang himself with a bootlace, | |
| To Let him rot in the ing tub was my mistake, | |
| And if you' re reading this it' s too late, | |
| It' s too drake, | |
| The smell is so vile, so it hurts even third eye, | |
| I had to get rid of the body back in July, | |
| Dead sociopath give problems even after dead, | |
| Even after mister monster had buried him, | |
| It' s still there. | |
| i feel it in my tummy, | |
| how he' s scratching in my guts, | |
| once i sleep, he try to sneak into my thoughts, | |
| he' s digging tunnels in my chest, | |
| Wipe the sleep out of my eyes, next, | |
| digging out the window, | |
| for uninvited guest, | |
| It' s probably been a couple days, | |
| or it' s a couple weeks, | |
| since i got ed up like this. | |
| nightmares and complexes. | |
| i' m having dreams where I have to literally scream | |
| myself awake. | |
| shit. |
| zuò cí : | |
| zuò qǔ : | |
| Secret hook in every sticky hook, | |
| Sneaky rappers playing on the leather flute, | |
| Remind me beggars, with no attitude. | |
| Petty game changers in the belly of the fatty gay, | |
| Feces bangers, | |
| pieces stick to dicks which then stayed on fagots teeth, | |
| miss me with that coterie of codeine cocksuckers, | |
| Hollering xan hustlers | |
| Hiding in blue castles, | |
| i' m out of this, | |
| Bitch, look around. | |
| better shut your stupid mouth, | |
| before little hopie beat you down | |
| and check this out, | |
| i' m walking in the woods | |
| with the body bag, | |
| full of funny heads | |
| and severed bunny' s tails, | |
| Bite my shiny ass, | |
| Call me teddy bear | |
| In the Kanye West costume, | |
| In that teddy bear costume, | |
| In the Cornella' s cartoons. | |
| I create monsters from nightmares and complexes, | |
| feed em flesh, they killing my confidence, in consequence. | |
| vomiting blood after vodka poisoning, | |
| monstrous hangover, withdrawal and abstinence. | |
| it seems like my head is big hive | |
| These days I tried to kill the Man in a suitcase, | |
| stupid mother er hang himself with a bootlace, | |
| To Let him rot in the ing tub was my mistake, | |
| And if you' re reading this it' s too late, | |
| It' s too drake, | |
| The smell is so vile, so it hurts even third eye, | |
| I had to get rid of the body back in July, | |
| Dead sociopath give problems even after dead, | |
| Even after mister monster had buried him, | |
| It' s still there. | |
| i feel it in my tummy, | |
| how he' s scratching in my guts, | |
| once i sleep, he try to sneak into my thoughts, | |
| he' s digging tunnels in my chest, | |
| Wipe the sleep out of my eyes, next, | |
| digging out the window, | |
| for uninvited guest, | |
| It' s probably been a couple days, | |
| or it' s a couple weeks, | |
| since i got ed up like this. | |
| nightmares and complexes. | |
| i' m having dreams where I have to literally scream | |
| myself awake. | |
| shit. |