Dez & Nobs - 2 Trillion 2 [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
A lotta MC's too finicky with their beats
I take throw-away joints and turn them shits into heat
While you piss in your sheets you dream of this when you sleep
Shoe horns and crow bars remove my fists from your teeth
It’s my victory speech it’s official the [?]
We snuck inside the building and slipped through the doors cracks
The forecast calls for sprinkles and light [?]
But nothing earth-shattering or life-altering
You know the drill bit I keep it simple stupid
While you sip strawberry flavored dribbles of menstrual fluid
Pussy, how much time you think it took me
To infiltrate the system get these middle men to book me
It’s about to get ugly as Chewie holler at your Wookiee
So fuck the politrickin’, with model citizens and what you trust
I’d rather do songs about how much you suck
Why you sit and wonder if God’s pissed
When New Orleans just drowned to death in a puddle of God’s piss
Does God exist? While you debate she may or may not
I’ll be buying out the bar and pounding haterade shots
Taking bottles to the face slang jager and [?]
You could tie me with your favorite Flavor Flav clock, like “stop!”
That’s just how me and my affiliates do
Live from nowhere, two trillion and two

[Verse 2]
At the shows up here, bitches blow lines in the bathroom, meanwhile
On stage you blow your lines in half the freestyle
You trapped in beat now, I’ll slap you senile
And if I woke you from your dream then go back to sleep now
They askin’ me how much I sign to Finger-print for
The in stores splendor ten four
Them tore more than you plus him
What I kick persuade like new buck Timbs
That there’s no such thing as me not ill
You’s a hypochondriac with a hospital bill
You can watch it on film and as you go through your set
Come to terms with the fact you’re mediocre at best
[?]
Still you [?] that it’s hard
Cause you just figured out how to work your ASR
Stop asking me, I’m fine, don’t need beats
518 stand up the home team’s deep
You ain’t crew jerk you just wish you was down
My crew threw dirt like my dick’s in the ground
Your spines chilly off nine millies and rubber gloves
They trying to kill me, I’m lyin’, really but they was
Now they look for the obligatory not in a handshake
Till they hardcore band gets robbed of its fan base
I don’t even need to say it there’s only so much you can take
So check my man Gyro and the sounds that his hands make