Lyrics Search >> Artists >> B >> Bad Meets Evil >> Fast Lane
  • Title:Fast Lane
  • Artist:Bad Meets Evil
  • Album:Hell: The Sequel
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    Fast Lane
    Bad Meets Evil
    First verse, uh, I'm on 'til I'm on a island
    My life's ridin' on the Autobahn on autopilot
    Before I touch dirt, I'll kill you all wit' kindness
    I kill ya, my natural persona's much worse
    You've been warned if you've been born or if you can form
    Slap up a cop and then snatch 'im out of his uniform
    Leave him wit' his socks, hard bottoms and bloomers on
    And hang him by his balls from the horn of a unicorn
    Y'all niggas' intellect mad slow, y'all fags know
    Claimin' you bangin', you flamin'
    Bet you could light your own cigarette witcha asshole
    Me and Shady deaded the past, so that basically resurrected my cash flow
    I might rap tight as the snatch of a fat dyke
    Though I ain't wrapped tight
    My blood type's the '80s!
    My '90s was like the Navy, you was like the Bradys
    You still fly kites daily!
    Catch me in my Mercedes
    Bumpin' "Ice, Ice Baby, " screamin' Shady 'til I die
    Like a half a pair of dice, life's crazy
    So I live it to the fullest 'til I'm Swayze
    And you only live it once, so I'm thinkin' 'bout this nice, nice lady
    Wait, no, stop me now 'fore I get on a roll (Damn)
    Let me tell you what this pretty little dame's name is, 'cause she's kinda famous
    And I hope that I don't sound too heinous when I say this
    Nicki Minaj, but I wanna stick (My penis in your anus!)
    You morons think that I'm a genius
    Really I belong inside a dang insane asylum, cleanin', try them trailer parks
    Crazy, I am back, and I am razor-sharp, baby
    And that's back wit' a capital B wit' an exclamation mark
    Maybe you should listen when I flip the linguistics
    'Cause I'm'onna rip this mystical slick shit
    You don't wanna become another victim or statistic of this shit
    'Cause after I spit the bullets, I'ma treat these shell casings like a soccer ball
    I'ma kick the ballistics! So get this dick, I'ma live this
    I'm livin' life in the fast lane
    Movin' at the speed of life and I can't slow down
    Only got a gallon in the gas tank
    But I'm almost at the finish line, so I can't stop now
    I don't really know where I'm headed, just enjoyin' the ride
    Just gon' roll 'til I drop and ride 'til I die
    I'm livin' life in the fast lane (Pedal to the metal)
    My whole goal as a poet's to be relaxed in orbit
    At war wit' a bottle, this Captain Morgan attacks my organs (C'mon)
    My slow flow is euphoric, it's like I rap endorphins (Woo!)
    I made a pact with the Devil that says "I'll let you take me
    You let me take this shovel, dig up the corspes, Jack Kevorkian" (C'mon)
    Go 'back and forth in more beef that you can pack a fork in
    I'm livin' the life of the infinite enemy down
    My tenement, too many now, to send my serenity powers
    Spin 'em around, enterin' in the vicinity
    Was called Eminem, but he threw away the candy and ate the rapper
    Chewed him up (Pt!) and spitted him out
    Girl, giddy-up, now get, get down
    He's lookin' around this club and it looks like people are havin' a shit fit now
    Here, little t-t-trailer trash, take a look who's back in t-t-town
    Did I s-st-stutter, motherfucker? Fuck them all
    He's shuts the whole motherfuckin' Walmart d-d-down every time he comes a-r-r-round
    And he came to the club tonight wit' 5'9? to hold this bitch down
    Like a motherfuckin' chick underwater, he's tryna d-dr-drown
    Shawty, when you dance, you got me captivated
    Just by the way that you keep lickin' 'em dicks like her lips I'm agitated, aggravated
    To the point you don't suck my dick, then you're gonna get decapitated
    Other words, you don't fuckin' give me head, then I'm have to take it
    And then after takin' that, I'ma catch a case, it's gon' be fascinatin'
    It's gon' say "The whole rap game passed away" on top of the affadavit
    Graduated from master debater slash massive masturbator
    To Michael Jackson' activator (Woo!)
    Meanin' I'm on fire off the top, might wanna back up the data
    Runnin' over hip-hop in a verbal tractor-trailer
    Homie, this sick, you can normally ask a hater
    Don't it make sense, these shell casings is just like a bag of paper
    Drop in the lap of a tax evader (Homie, they spent)
    Now make that ass drop like a sack of potatoes
    What, girl, I'm the crack-a-lator
    Percolator to this party, be my penis ejaculator later
    Tell ya boyfriend that you just struck paydirt
    You rollin' wit' a player, you won't be exaggeratin' when you sayin'
    Compositores: Ben Moody / Kara Dioguardi / Lindsay Lohan / Mitch Allen
    Letra de Fast Lane © Universal Music Publishing Group