Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Takeoff, artist - Aceyalone. Album song Love & Hate, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 02.06.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: That Kind of
Song language: English
Takeoff |
In front of the mic, behind the limelight |
A star so bright shines refined advancement |
Dance with the last man on the face of the earth |
Who did the electric sl-i-i-ide over the verse |
Hands held high, connect the antennas |
Do or die when we fly, face the grimace |
Yeah let’s get this off you ready, Fast Eddie |
Drop a load on 'em, wrong folks got a hold on 'em |
Put the Blowed on 'em, roll on 'em |
Roll over 'em, no control over 'em, over me |
Outwardly, inwardly, openly, awkwardly |
Happily, dastardly, tragedy and casualty |
Same story same flight |
Where they put yo' body same strip same spite, same endin |
Same car, same endin, same tension brewin |
Give me the steel, what the FUCK is you doin? |
You done enough it’s not enough, act two |
I’m runnin up it’s not a bluff, I’m bout to crack you |
Nonchalant, idiots about no comp |
Romp, with the big guys, stomp all the pies |
Kick the box, light these M-80's |
Ladies grab your babies, run for safety |
I don’t think it may be a, good idea to stand here |
You have no idea of what the FUCK’S about to land here |
Smart bombs, J-DAMS, bring mayhem |
Hold up, god damn, it’s just a party |
Dirty red carpet and you walk by me wobbly |
Obviously, oblivious, frontin snobby |
Heat to the Mojave, heat to the robbery |
Beat, to the rhymin, each, brother probably |
Taxpayers killer the mayor, and the senator |
Rhyme sayers say a prayer, see a minister |
Drinks are on the house, the house is on the hill |
The hills are on FIRE, it started in the fields |
Smoke inhalation, no ventilation |
No fire station, no assimilation |
Minus the heroes and plaques memorial sites |
Become burial sites, from high aerial flights |
Hover over David Blaine, I’m here to save the game |
Fifty-two pick-up witcha brain |
Alone lies the man on the track |
Lonely as the dagger in my back, staggerin fowards |
Fallin face flat, still spittin at you |
Still gettin at you, they’re all laughin at you |
My greatest gift of all was the ability to fall |
Get back up and fall, get back up and fall |
Get back up and fall and crawl and get back up and brawl |
And make 'em lick the balls |
Now the dagger’s in my back pocket, I hear the track I rock it |
Pull your arm outta socket, reachin for the cockpit |
Rock shit, roll shit, control shit |
Hold shit down 'til we slow on some old shit |
I’ll stick the pin in your neck just to earn respect |
Stuff the paper in your mouth if I have to spell it out |
Or write it on yo' forehead cause that’s what I’m about |
Run the route, bring water to the drought |
When all else fails on the trails of love |
Hate becomes judged, happiness won’t budge |
Wickedness does just as wickedness does |
And I’m just gettin above, I’m sayin it just because I can |
Just because I am a man |
With the, hand that fit it and the teeth marks embedded |
But God’s hands, grip tight, and don’t forget it |
The evil in your heart is, misery’s home |
Where ugly is bred and grown, I refuse |
I defuse the bomb but just for a moment |
And like out of NOWHERE comes yo' worst opponent |
The first ones on it, the last to leave |
All my, trash is treasure, that’s how it’s perceived |
At the end of my spin when the heights achieved |
I’mma leave with a bang like how I was conceived |
There’s thieves in the temple with tricks up they sleeve |
BUT NO!!! |
FUCK THAT! |