Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ain't Playin, artist - Clear Soul Forces. Album song Gold PP7s, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.09.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fat Beats
Song language: English
Ain't Playin |
You are now tuned in |
Now just rock wit' me, now just rock wit' me |
Yo |
Bare witness, the power of light exponent |
Locate a beat exert mass of physique and explode it |
Rearranging the letters for telekinetic focus |
The crocodile bungee escape a game of goldfish |
When it comes to the magnified rhythm we got you open |
Precise is apparent and made it too thermal, you smokin' |
Trying to figure out how we maneuver, you lack motion |
Falling as short as Street Fighter Dan Hibiki’s hadouken |
When all our pens are strokin' our verses act out as locum |
Substitute the shadow box and the similes for the dope shit |
Severed out for metaphorical storytelling technotion of the classical, done it |
I bet you can’t tell who’s the coax |
Synchronized with the written |
We sorta act our components |
Heat 'em up like artichoke and show 'em the art of token |
With L.A.Z in the over-office |
Prone-position clonin' |
Stream love out to you at home |
And T-minus until we blow 'em |
Yeah, it’s CSF |
Four niggas We comin' from the D and we be runnin' this |
Go run and tell your momma, daddy, sister, brother |
I’ma bring the real shit back with E-fav, L.A.Z and Noveliss |
The mass spitter, Jack the Ripper |
Rippin' tracks into fragments |
Detroit, Hip Hop’s version of Nazareth |
Home of the saviours bringin' the flavour, annihilators |
Life savers floatation device frap drowns into Hiatus |
Mass hysteria, bring the Folgers to your area |
Wake up and smell the grace |
While I put this beat in a coffin and have it tossin' in its grave |
I be rhyming to death |
The parr bearer, barbaria |
Put up your lighters for the undertaken |
Hitting your favorite rapper with a pile driver |
Tombstones count 'em out |
Audio arson, one of the hardest |
My attire is Trayvon Martin, don’t get me started |
Got invited to a missile fight |
Came in with a broken sword and a bottle of cologne smellin' like Agent Orange |
This chemical warfare, uh rappers in the air |
Be that, Hannibal Lect dialect, sharpen my vocabulary |
Words are weapons, unsheathe them, swing 'em I’m slicing capillaries |
Everything colossal, the underground apostle |
Being a role model, ain’t rappin' 'bout popping bottles |
Yeah, it’s CSF |
Four niggas We comin' from the D and we be runnin' this |
Go run and tell your momma, daddy, sister, brother |
I’ma bring the real shit back with E-fav, L.A.Z and Noveliss |