Spaceman - Maroon lyrics

[Intro:] [Verse 1: Spaceman] I'm nasty, snatch your cat proceed to hurt you badly Then brashly get attacked by an ashy pack of Apaches Catch me applying nicotine patches to my a** cheeks Actually eating Laffy Taffy in some snazzy khakis This that rad rap, spit it while I'm sitting on your dad's lap Get ransacked, Smiphen sh**ting: DOOT DOOT BRAP BRAP I'm spitting in your third eye while sipping on a stirred chai Kick and make you nerds cry, I'm sick and I've been bird fly I'm cool as a cucumber, you a confused mumbler Making a few numbers while I sit and review Tumblr Ba-da-ba-bow Don't ask me how I got this fly Just call me Space Guy Lurking for some b**bies while you're chewing on your doobies Snacking on your scoobies while you're hocking up some loogies Goodness gracious golly, why don't you go pop some molly And get rolling like a dolly on the backside of a trolley [Hook: Spaceman] Johnny F and Spaceman a formidable crew Acts of violence that you thought you'd only see in cartoons All we wreak is havoc as we storm through your rooms Like we're tearing down the streamers and we're popping balloons Wilding out what we about and what we like to do Red just isn't dark enough we paint the town maroon (3x) [Verse 2: John F. Centipede] Yo, catch us in the Buick Century, we going postal Rowdy with the locals, going Barbary Coastal Like its decadent debauchery in gold rush San Francisco But our parties don't go Donner, more like LAN with Nabisco No, its crazy how it is, like no filter on your photos Slickly sliding in the whip betwixt two bells like agogo Windows down, they leaning on my shoulders when its colder Cuz the Young Bruce McCullough win em over with a smolder I spit what fills the pot where the rainbow stops I'm steady bumming black and milds off of plainclothes cops John F. Centipede or Young Wishes-That-He-Had-More-Black-Friends Or Lil' Only-Exercise-He-Gets-is-Doing-Rap-Hands Pull up blasting T Swift cuz we trouble trouble trouble Yet we merrier than pranksters that rode with Tommy Dubya Electric Kool-Aid Molly Test, this that Hunter Thompson-esque Fear and Loathing of these boys whose late night larks make mommies stressed [Hook] [Outro: John F. Kennedy] We choose to go to the moon We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things Not because they are easy But because they are hard