Coup De Grâce song by 360 from Primary Album Album not found. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Australia, Rap, Aussie Hip-Hop music. The Record company is unknown. Released on None.
video was originally posted on: Youtube
Coup De Grâce Meaning
| [[Intro: 360] Ayy [Verse 1: 360] They wanna know where 6 at (6 at) When I hit ’em with this track, they would likely retire (Uh-huh) The fact is I hate rappers as well I’d rather battle myself and fight fire with fire (Fire) What I’m sayin’ in my song’ll amaze ya What I’m tryna say is you’ll get lost in it, ayy, brah Honestly, with the quality we droppin’ If you wanna degrade us, it’s gotta be A plus (Woo!) I ain’t listenin’ to hip-hop these days Everybody just a bunch of hip-hop clichés (True) Go ahead and buy my shit off eBay I’m here to break records like a pissed-off DJ (Snap) Yeah, I can tell it in your melon You developin’ a habit, better gallop into rehab (Rehab) Uh, I’m a fellow without manners Not a felon, I’ma Khaled ’em and tell ’em where the keys at (Another one) I can smell it, where the weed at? Honestly, homie, yo, I can tell you’re gonna relapse, relax You’re a dope fiend for the codeine You’re a Fat Joe fan, got you yellin’ for the lean back [Chorus: 360, PEZ] (Hehe) Coup de grâce, coup de grâce Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (Uh-uh) Coup de grâce, coup de grâce I don’t give a fuck who you are , [Verse 2: PEZ] I been lookin’ around But I still haven’t found my place That’s why you see me drift off into outer space (Hehe) All you down-to-earth rappers can eat sour grapes Or a sour steak, my whole fuckin’ fridge is out of date I rocked up to the studio an hour late (Yeah) And snuck in like, “Hey guys, it sounded great” I swear to God, I hear another of you welterweight Rappers here who sound the same, and there’ll be fuckin’ hell to pay (Man) I’m feelin’ back in my element Like I’m channellin’ the Devil, writin’ rap for the hell of it (Woo!) To remind these motherfuckers that I’m actually talented I don’t want to, but I have to keep tellin’ ’em (What’s that?) I can pad this verse out with lyrics that are six years old ‘Cause I wrote better shit than you when I was six years old (It’s true) All you rappers from the new school who just enrolled If you don’t know that I’m the shit, then you just been told [Chorus: PEZ, 360] (Bitch) Coup de grâce, coup de grâce Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (I don’t, though) Yeah, coup de grâce, coup de grâce I don’t give a fuck who you are (Yeah) [Verse 3: 360] You ain’t sicker than this fidgety bitch (Nup) Lyckety-Splyt, stick to the script and play the role you given (Yeah) Thinkin’ your shit’s bigger than this, no, it isn’t I’ma put your head in a box, boy, you goin’ missin’ I got a chicken, I ain’t talkin’ ’bout a parma, ayy Pull-out game strong, I ain’t comin’ to your party, mate Mad at the buzz, your alarm is late Reverse kanga, this shit is hard to take (Woo!) Look, decided it’s finally time for bravado Line after line after line like a barcode You trash cunts, you ain’t worth the work So go and pull yourself together like a circle jerk, motherfuckers , [Chorus: 360, Seth Sentry] Coup de grâce, coup de grâce (Uh) Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are (Yeah) Coup de grâce, coup de grâce I don’t give a fuck who you are (Nope) Man, coup de grâce, coup de grâce Anyone can get it, I don’t care who you are Uh, coup de grâce, coup de grâce I don’t give a fuck who you are [Verse 4: Seth Sentry] Man, I’m doin’ shit my own way I’m kickin’ bubblegum and chewin’ arse (Yeah) Slidin’ through your studio inside a Uber car (Skrrt) Jumpin’ out with two bazookas and a suit of armour Blew apart the booth and puff a doobie, go to Zumba class You ain’t the sickest, you’re a hypochondriac, so just loosen up (Relax) Go get some juice in a chicken noodle cup *Slurps* I got a pandemic flu, and I’m pukin’ up Blood full of AIDS, the bubonic plague and a case of whoopin’ cough Jumpin’ Jupiter, who would ever assume that the Goofiest kid in school woulda grew to be even stupider Screw the tutor, I’m huffin’ a tube of glue in a cubicle Ate a urinal cake, and I think it’s caught on my uvula All I wanted to do was to rap and improve and do better Boostin’ up all of my skills, feel like you didn’t get the newsletter Now I just wanna ruin your buzz, I’m a fuckin’ mood killer You should evacuate from the place ’cause I’m goin’ nuclear (Woo!) So fuck bein’ the sharpest tool in the shed, I just grab it And stab your crew with it, who want it? Pshh, I’ll fuckin’ ruin ya’s Takin’ your cash cow, and I grill it and serve it back to ya There’s some barbecue rap for ya, chew it up, it’s the coup de grâce] |
