Lyrics:
pleasure. Check it out
It's real smooth
(Intro sample: I'm the Slime by Frank Zappa 1973 album Overnite Sensation)
I'm gonna blow your mind (best believe
One time, reporting live
Compton, California
Have you ever felt like, like you never get life?
Like you never get right? Sort of like a black
go by a lot of names
And I'm warning you don't tease me don't awake that thing in me
Code name ovdz 나의 rhyme lemon tree
머저리 왈 진실은 널 해방 but 열받지 2, 3
watching how we behave
Cos we surrounded by hate love, that comes with the game
Got a couple of real ones and some of them fake
As long as we got real love,
and the weed he grew
Fuck me man that Jelousy got me feeling some Sort of way
Can't even make my way outta bed today
I just gotta get back and hit the hay
and walked on the moon
But time is still a mystery
We tried to label time by
Creating numbers and digit's
Seconds and minutes and hours
Are all just figments
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
through it, mom dukes too
Tears streamin down her pretty face, she got her palms to it
My life is gettin too wild
I need to bring some sort kinda calm
Authorities figured they must have been some sort of mob
Or illegal organization
According to authorities, they made a quarter mil' a week
Selling ? , they
seven minutes for you
Seven long drawn, sixty-second sobs
Grief, a simple thing
Add water to the sorrow and wait
Darkness precipitate
Ruin my room
depuis l’placenta
Balance des métaphores tombées d’l’asteroïde
La chemise craque et là direct tu
Sais qu’il s’passe un by
Aucun respect pour la syntaxe la
live? How you seeeeeeee...
Sort the stack outs, this one's the blackout
Three-fifty-seven to your mouth, blaaow!!
[Buddah Monk - Brooklyn Zu]
Dunn can
some dope and quit
Then you see his bitch-ass two weeks later, now he dead broke on his ass
Now you ain't got no job, bitch-ass nigga
One, get some
we should be livin'
Unified, strong, makin' our own decisions
Hip-hop city, higher minds will listen
Some won't get it and find time for dissin'
But I
The magnificent seven
Ring, ring, it's 7:00 A.M.
Move yourself to go again
Cold water in the face
Brings you back to this awful place
on and jumble
on and get the words back to front and front to back and all that good stuff.
Run To The Hills, chart position number seven, got there. Released
you really care
All people that I respect
Use it as an advantage in life
Try to gain my trust
Then give to me some rust
Some sort of substance that
Fascinated by hip, hop Since my 10th
Took me some time to realise What it really meant
Time well spent Every second is an opportunity
Good bad and ugly Helped
say some of the things twice
Or three times in a row
But it doesn't matter, that's for sure
We just having a good time
The second I rhyme, I spit it
Because man I get cornier by the song
And my life feels like a song
That's kinda just dragging on
I'm the one that's trying to find
Some sort of sense in
a place
My heroes don’t write songs
How I get caught up in the madness
In the mid summer sadness
Tryna find the balance
Still I get caught up in
out
I can't get it out
All I taste is some kind of comfort pain
It's all the same
A sort of novocaine
A sort of novocaine
All I taste are iron-ridden
I need to bring some sort kinda calm to it
Bout to lose it; voices screamin "Don't do it!"
It's like '93, '94, bout the year
That Big and Mag
dukes too
Tears streaming down her pretty face
She got her palms to it
My life is getting too wild
I need to bring some sort calm to it
Bout to lose it
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