Scandinavian Detours - Da$h, Action Bronson

Stash the ends, crash the black Benz for a distraction

Extract the package, killing a gator in a lake that’s Placid

Skin it for jackets, made to bait an actress

I’m everything you lacking, my reputation massive

Avoid the capture and escape arrest, got cave drawings on my flesh

Had a dinner date with death, so I

Light up the cess and then transform into a fighter jet

Decepticon, I’m selling strippers out in Lebanon

Stare at the moon and then I said a song

The wind was calm, the trees was palm, reefer strong

Speak in psalms, I move the beef brisket with the tongs

Never chopsticks, goth bitch blowing cock in a Drop 6

You ask a nigga how I got this, I never answer the question

A science blessed him in applied selection

With a young king, butler named Ludwig

Your mother bedroom is where I puff cigs, you fucking know

You know how my story go, your mouth’s a glory hole

The man who made my outfit’s name is Gregorio

Damn, I want some Oreo’s, riding through Astoria

I can tell you’re tushy from directly through your cornea

You’ll get wiped, suck the knife like a dick head

Blood all over my old baseball cards by my kid’s bed

Double park, make a sale inside the Modell’s

«Bronson, I only got twelve» baby, oh well

Shit, I had the jacket with the thing

I order two wings, Jamaican colored Ewings

The can of coke got us into Six Flags

Shit, I always knew that I’d be rich, Dad

Fuck 'em, never need 'em, never trust 'em

From first glance I’m looking Russian

Second glance I’m looking dusted

From third glance I’m quite disgusting, call me Justin