Party Supplies - Ron Simmons lyrics

[Verse 1] Gipsy Salami cheese is from the cave Wild dandelion greens dressed up on the plate Parmesan crisp, we wildin' in marea Doing all the d** off of Pico and Labrea Peace to Kings English, sticky green fingers Brock Fetch Polaroids b**hes named Inga Cunnilingus, Buddy Holly singin Hash between my bu*t cheeks, hookers in the plush suite Whole grain mustard, 12 grain bread Move c**aine out of Spokane, I got no shame Spit the propane, relieve you of your gold chain Go to bed without even knowing the hoes name Hazelnut spread, banana on the bread Treat you like a shark, put the hammer on your head Mock neck sweaters, Alpaca on the threads Fat black leathers. Leave your body in the shed Damn [Hook] Ron Simmons Peace to motherf**ing Iceland Ron Simmons Ron Simmons Ron, Ron Simmons Ron Simmons [Verse 2] Damn, your f**ing with a pro kid, No triple A I went straight up to the show, kid While You can catch me out in Spain on the coast, dick Don't ever say my f**ing music sound like Ghost sh** Born alone, stood strong for half of fifty Vocal reminiscing of a kid that hold a semi Old and sweaty, motherf**er sh** the bed They crying in the corner while there shorty give me head Yeah, ice sculptures, Venezuelan white vultures Chinese wizardry, long capes Old grapes in the gla**es she s** me while I'm flaccid Every summer catch me grilling steaks by Lake Placid Dabble then pa** it, don't ever babble or get blasted b**hes a** to a**, double dil*os made of plastic Remain cla**ic with all this flash inside the pan sh** Like Jr. Griffey smashing homers, never land b**h Damn, we never land b**h Yeah, we never land b**h Kinda high, never land b**h But you can see me eatin Lamb, b**h Damn