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Track : Whore Monger

Artist : Sage Francis

Album : Still Sickly Business

Whore Monger by Sage Francis from album Still Sickly Business

Duration : 3 minutes & 46 seconds.

Listener : 2351 peoples.

Played : 7730 times and counting.

My popularity's on the rise, my self image is somewhat sinking
My heads expanding in size but my stomach's shrinking
It all evens out in the end that's what I'm thinking
Sing the cash register raps, ch-ching ching
Greenbacks bring the bling bling
Nah, nah, I may stay home
Rubbed out the ring, ring, ha, ha, hey, hey, poem
While my answering machine's screening calls
Feeling safe and alone
I want change in your message not the coin return of a pay phone
My boys are concerned that my brain's blown
Voices get turned away annoyed with what they say, if it's a gay tone
And they're like, hey, ho, I'm all like, hey yo
Few remain prone to spray straight shots
With blood stained glock, sin a face of stone
To melt your ice grill
It might spill and break ya bone
Thugs in harmony c.d. plus any tapes ya own
Replace the thrown with some non prophets drop bass, hoo
Sage is know to pull your card kid so chill
I mess up plans like robbers with no skill
My only knowledge is the holy father's so thrilled
That you don't know still what God is making martyrs out of molehills
Now, if your soul is fulfilled, hold your dills
And realize you're never satisfied 'til after you die from overkill
I'm from placebo ville, where we know the drill
Obscene is so ill but I wait for the nurse to leave so I can throw the pill
I am not sick, demented or listed as twisted
Bitch, what's up with this kid?
Some insisted that I'm interested in running from the facts whispered
In a mating call that get a busy signal from a number that's unlisted
Lumberjacks are gifted, when I swung the axe, it slid
Out of my grasp and injured this invalid, invalid
Toss offs toss their cookies while tossing salads
I ghost write the most hype love song
And let some whore sing the ballad
I'm a whore, a whore monger with a platinum voice
I'm a whore, a whore monger 'cause I haven't a choice
Servin' up this 'ish 'cause ego freaks
Need to eat excrement and flaunt rose pedals
I breed hard rocks to impregnate stones and grow pebbles
I throw kettles at pan handlers and pot smokers
Sell incest to sexually repressed stockbrokers
I turn impotent pimps to sex slaves
Manifest them with radio activity from x-rays
I bootleg their skeletons the next day
Son, you can sense my dark mood once the sky gets gray
Little kids are like let's play, alright then
Tell them to act like men then I'll fight them
Let 'em hit me first then be like strike again
Then it's my turn to see how far the limbs of little tykes bend
I tied 'em up with burlap rope, word, that's dope
Manhandled the girl that lacked hope and her back broke
She preferred crack, cocaine to heroin, needed heroin never again
Ladies and gentleman, ladies and gentleman
I'm from a species of czars, I rule the deep seas and stars
Everything I do is important so I save my feces in jars
And what I eat seems bizzare, I deep freeze and thaw
Emcees who ain't down by the gravities of law
Now, these analogies ain't raw
But when you secretly serve this well done
Ya'll then become casualties of war
She called me Francis Allah and I was flattered
'Cause I ghost wrote the most dope love sonnet
That dumb harlot sung the ballad
I'm a whore, a whore monger with a platinum voice
I'm a whore, a whore monger 'cause I haven't a choice
And if your snatch isn't moist
Just sing along, c'mon
La la laa, la la la laa, la la lala la la
La la laa, la la la laa, la la lala la la

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