Cellar dwelling alien
Bunnin' on the sticky icky
Rappelling off the rooftop to storm the committee
Sickly, getting frisky with your chicky
Chris Brown the f*ck out the pretty little face
While shes singing Lil Dicky
I crumple up a three for fifty, the gritty little nitty waltzing through the city
Like a robotic hippy, getting giddy off the illy
I don't need your pity but the piggies wanna catch me slippy
Take my hits off the plant like Ricky (Ricky!)
London to Mississippi
I condense the flow just to give you skinny
I'm cold like, Mr. Whippy, sipping on the Tyskie
Don't talk to feds if you want to die quickly
P O P E, man will leave you in a pickle
This interstellar crystal gave my whole crew the sniffles
I still got the giggles off the grape gas gristle
And 99 issues but the vision is simple
By any means necessary, open up the peoples eyes
Yet I'm penning rhymes that only ever add to the lies and the blur the lines
But I been doing this for time
I was swiggin' wine at the last meal of Christ
Too nice, to ever really understand
Spine studded nomad
Picking pennies off the bodies out in no mans land
I got the whole thing planned
Fly to the lowlands of 'Dam just to crash-land
In a paranormal dreamland,
Yeah I'm milking my pineal gland to press it into contraband
F*ck a xan
DMT got me reading from the sky like a weatherman
Under pressure like a spray can
Face deadpan
While I'm floating like a spaceman
Watch my brain expand
Puffin' on the Afghan
Studio tan got me whiter than a ghost
You could try get some
But Pope got the most
Spacepope - Celladwella Lyrics
Spacepope - Celladwella Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Cellar dwelling alien
Bunnin' on the sticky icky
Rappelling off the rooftop to storm the committee
Sickly, getting frisky with your chicky
Chris Brown the f*ck out the pretty little face
While shes singing Lil Dicky
I crumple up a three for fifty, the gritty little nitty waltzing through the city
Like a robotic hippy, getting giddy off the illy
I don't need your pity but the piggies wanna catch me slippy
Take my hits off the plant like Ricky (Ricky!)
London to Mississippi
I condense the flow just to give you skinny
I'm cold like, Mr. Whippy, sipping on the Tyskie
Don't talk to feds if you want to die quickly
P O P E, man will leave you in a pickle
This interstellar crystal gave my whole crew the sniffles
I still got the giggles off the grape gas gristle
And 99 issues but the vision is simple
By any means necessary, open up the peoples eyes
Yet I'm penning rhymes that only ever add to the lies and the blur the lines
But I been doing this for time
I was swiggin' wine at the last meal of Christ
Too nice, to ever really understand
Spine studded nomad
Picking pennies off the bodies out in no mans land
I got the whole thing planned
Fly to the lowlands of 'Dam just to crash-land
In a paranormal dreamland,
Yeah I'm milking my pineal gland to press it into contraband
F*ck a xan
DMT got me reading from the sky like a weatherman
Under pressure like a spray can
Face deadpan
While I'm floating like a spaceman
Watch my brain expand
Puffin' on the Afghan
Studio tan got me whiter than a ghost
You could try get some
But Pope got the most
Bunnin' on the sticky icky
Rappelling off the rooftop to storm the committee
Sickly, getting frisky with your chicky
Chris Brown the f*ck out the pretty little face
While shes singing Lil Dicky
I crumple up a three for fifty, the gritty little nitty waltzing through the city
Like a robotic hippy, getting giddy off the illy
I don't need your pity but the piggies wanna catch me slippy
Take my hits off the plant like Ricky (Ricky!)
London to Mississippi
I condense the flow just to give you skinny
I'm cold like, Mr. Whippy, sipping on the Tyskie
Don't talk to feds if you want to die quickly
P O P E, man will leave you in a pickle
This interstellar crystal gave my whole crew the sniffles
I still got the giggles off the grape gas gristle
And 99 issues but the vision is simple
By any means necessary, open up the peoples eyes
Yet I'm penning rhymes that only ever add to the lies and the blur the lines
But I been doing this for time
I was swiggin' wine at the last meal of Christ
Too nice, to ever really understand
Spine studded nomad
Picking pennies off the bodies out in no mans land
I got the whole thing planned
Fly to the lowlands of 'Dam just to crash-land
In a paranormal dreamland,
Yeah I'm milking my pineal gland to press it into contraband
F*ck a xan
DMT got me reading from the sky like a weatherman
Under pressure like a spray can
Face deadpan
While I'm floating like a spaceman
Watch my brain expand
Puffin' on the Afghan
Studio tan got me whiter than a ghost
You could try get some
But Pope got the most
Writer: Dean Case
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid