Funkoars - Bad Habits lyrics

[Psychiatrist:] Alright people, we're going to talk about bad habits I used to have a bad habit When I had a yeast infection where I scratched it continually First person I want to talk about their bad habits Is you Headlock, what have you got to say? [Verse 1: Headlock] A lot of people are like "Headlock's got issues" f** that - I got a subscription and a full box of tissues I'm not a character, I play one in my imagination And before shaking hand you might want to consider vaccination Yeah I'm that dude who's in elevators arguing with himself Because I don't have time to talk to anyone else Any chick who sits down next to me when I'm drinking at bars I cough in her face and tell her I think I have SARS Bi-polar, eye disorder, talk so (shut up) Talk words without incident sincere {unclear rabble} But that comes and goes, sort of like me I don't love you hoes so I jerk off then I leave You don't know bad habits 'til you've lived like me Walk a mile in my shoes, they s** and I want your Nike's I guess the worst thing I do when I'm guesting on tracks I scream HEADLOCK for a cut and make the rest of it whack [Psychiatrist:] Alright, I'm going to get myself a cut Mr Suttersutter! [Verse 2: Trials] It's the Aussie s** symbol, you better ask your mother I'm like hip hop's version of that dude Dieter Brummer I've got a slight habit, girls call me vain Cos my brain's a one-track mind made up of my face There's no complaints, ladies know that I'm good And women faint when they check the size of the manhood Like "What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man! Say it again now" My s** style is tight like Liv Tyler Quite the pimp type of guy to kiss like a Exact replica of Gene Simmons These teach the women cop the breaststroke like I was swimming I sorta lie like the chicks that I say that I lay On their backs on a day to day base But honestly, I couldn't set a pulse on fire So signing off, Mr Trials: compulsive liar [Psychiatrist:] Don't be so hard on yourself, you're a strapping young liar Pressure, what do you have to say? [Verse 3: Pressure] I get so drunk I fall flat, landing hard on my chin Crack a retarded grin, my eyes get misglazed, looking far from akin To attain drunk, my thoughts are a fumble I try to talk but I mumble, try to walk but I stumble And when my mind gets as dirty as a pint of Coopers I delve down for a few rounds of pocket snooker I like hogging loogers, picking plaque from my teeth Scratching my arse, farting, and long walks on the beach So how about it girls - I'm an eligible bachelor Some guys will buy you flowers - I'm going to get drunk and rap for you Then stagger to the closest quarter, open my drawers Then spew before you claim he was a closed talker See I got habits as bad like f*ggots that drag Make your stomach churn like retards having a shag Man, my rapping is sad (no doubt!) And when I was at your house I picked my nose and wiped it under your couch [Psychiatrist:] I hope that wasn't my couch, it was made by Pakistani Seventh-day Adventists! [Verse 4: Sesta] I wish it was a bad habit, it's an epidemic I'm legging it for paramedics when given the sedative You see I wish I could settle it but my best bet to get it severed from my neck Then I would get respected But then I guess I'll just take a breather and beat up the weak and feeble for evil Believing they could defeat me I'd only take them on if they were smaller, with my mates and [?] So I don't take d**, I just use them as my excuse To act the way that I be so disregard what I say to you My mind's f**ed up, corrupted My shirt's tucked only when my bu*t's s**ed in, it must be the gluttony From Monday to Sunday, I wanna go out like Pun so catch me at the buffet You see these hairy palms? They don't mean no harm In need of an eating companion cos I'm sick of my left arm [Psychiatrist:] Sesta if you're hungry I'll have Marco prepare you a trifle [Verse 5: Suffa] I only smoke a pack on a good night On a bad night I smoke two packs like Suge Knight(?) Then when Saturday comes it feels like a chimney just shattered my lungs f** your patches and gums They call me Goldfinger, you should see I got the illest hands from puffing on the 12 milligrams Goldfinger, I swear man it looks like I've been, stirring a curry with my bare hands And my breath gets funky, I know hun But if you don't like kissing a smoker, then just blow one I smoke to the bu*t, I choke 'til it's done I dope smoker's toke it right down to their thumb And if I could quit, sh** I could save the dollars to get my lungs flushed by a Mexican doctor (Achh he no speak English!) and he's completely incompetent And doing a procedure that's band on six continents, bring out your dumb [Psychiatrist:] Bring out your dumb!? I'll bring out a can of whoop-a** on you You shouldn't put people down Anyways, it's been a really good session everyone You're very clever people Hopefully now you've got that out of your system you can address your problems "Doing your crib... break a sample like a bad habit" [Scratches] "Bad habit"