Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Scribble on a Clean Surface, artist - Aceyalone. Album song Hip Hop and the World We Live In, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: That Kind of
Song language: English
Scribble on a Clean Surface |
I had forgotten the incredible butter softness of his long fingers. |
How they felt on my back when he slow-dragged with me, |
At a fateful «Blue Lights in the Basement» party. |
The dim lights making his honey-colored eyes barely visible as he, |
FLASHED A PENLIGHT IN MY EYES! |
«Look directly into the light this time.» |
I say look into the light |
See what you look like |
I scribble on a clean surface, the earthless and worthless {*echoes* |
It’s life, at the tunnel of the point of purchase {*echoes* |
Aiyyo freedom got a microphone, AND a AK {*echoes* |
Make way, and prepare for the melee {*echoes* |
The method of my madness could NEVER be known |
The microphone magic of Aceyalone |
Don’t, try to set home or off of the dome |
Because wigs are known to be SPLIT |
And a, fan is known to be hit with shit |
Rubber band flows that snap back in place |
Rap in they face, get this motherfucker outta here |
He talks way way way WAY too much |
Spit for the victory, 'til they sick of me |
I never wallow in the bickery or trickery |
There’s no con-FUSION, just the FUSION |
No il-LUSION, cause God rule them |
Held high, nailed in the sky |
The artistic eye leaves you mystified |
You’re once denied, soon openly obliged |
They say, «rock you don’t stop» but what you talkin bout |
Well let me guess, you come fi test |
But test not he who knows best, put nonsense to rest |
Preachin on a soapbox, dope on the block |
Choke on your tongue, smoke from the gun |
Broke in the middle, I hope you’re havin fun |
HIGH post, high dose, high strung |
Wind through the lungs, spirit of the young |
Salt on the slug, caught with the plug |
Fought with the drugs, taught by the thugs |
Eye of a tiger, head of a lion |
Walkin through the interior of Siberia |
Chip away at the rock, or a dynamite block |
Right where they had to stop, we continue |
Think the worst, ink into the verse |
Sink into the earth, die by the end of the rhyme |
What a rush, too much to discuss |
I close it up by sayin this |