VIKTOR VAUGHN - Lickupon lyrics

Confirmation of your worse fears

Ever since his first years had a thirst for beers

Back from the future, it'll make you more sober-er

And brought back a long list of fakers who crossed over

I'm like, fuck it, bubble-baller

Catch ‘em up at Bob's show, stall him with a troubled caller

Bastard, who could make G's faster

Than a newly re-mastered while being truly plastered

There's four sides to every story

If these walls could talk, they'd probably still ignore me

Contemplate war over a cup of warm coffee

It's really getting gory, tell your problem to Maury

Don't bore V with the "glory, hallelu-ey"

Crews be like, foo-ey he's just a buncha hoo-ey

I knew he had new G, who he? Viktor Vaughn

He had a new sicker song, I think he call it "Lickupon"

Umm but uh, he study rhymes and patter-ins

Climb so steep sometimes the beat don't be mattering

Sounded like a half-dead from (???Scurvy band rock???)

A programmed, computer bio-grafted Herbie Hancock

Maybe next life he'll try harder

Died a martyr at the hands of the fire-starter

More scripts ripped available for via barter

Transport a stack to the lab via charter

On the microphone he came to daze and amaze ya'

What a guy, practice banging flies with razors

And watch out for the robot, he got eyes with lasers

Tell ‘em when they come with more topics besides blazers

Enough with the guns already, they're all toys and lames

The joy's in the aim, he asked him, how's ya' poison game?

Do you bust your crossbow? Also, more so

Accurate body blows to torso, thought so

These flows you won't find in no "how-to"

If the blacksmith doubt you, he smack the shit out you

Make nothing gone, let nothing twitch

Just don't be near the mic when the on-button switch

V bring the beef like a trucker to Fuddrucker

Delivery to all y'all motherfuckers and bloodsucker

Coping more pleas than when a rap nigga bicker on

And that's my word is bond, I think he call it "Lickupon"

Umm, he wrote this one with a fever sick in bed

With his dickhead inside a chickenhead

No, a dead chicken's head, he said it help his nausea

If he lost ya', wait ‘til he tell you about the flying saucer

Dag, the kickback'll leave your wig ragged

For a big bag of good grizzle and some Zig-Zag

Survival, keep a rival in denial

And bust what he got just for coming out his pie-hole

Die calmer than a suicide-bomber

V just the type to do a hoo-ride with momma

Said to James Bond, my name is Viktor, Viktor Vaughn

Told the chick the quickest way to get on, lickupon