| Yo, we’re here to break down our science, know’mean?
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| You know what time it is?
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| Yeah, yeah, I know what time it is What time is it, is it coochie time?
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| Nah, nah, it’s not Gucci time
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| It’s time to speak the language of demigods
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| Yo, Apathy, yo Soul — it’s time to hear your business
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| Step to the mic, baby
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| Bounce with these cats
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| Yo, I got a problem with the mic, so I solve it like a man
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| Grab it by the neck and rock it as hard as I can
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| From Nike’s on my feet, to the mic that I freak
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| MC’s will agree that I’m precise on the beef
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| Fuck fronting, shut down pacs like game over
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| Consistently light shit up like chain-smokers
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| Flex and I melt down flesh like flamethrowers
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| Fresh is the dooky gold chain Kane showed us Funny how your honey or your dame came over
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| When you were out last night, couldn’t remain sober
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| You woke up in the morning with a bad hangover
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| I woke up, and bang a coocha til the day was over
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| It’s like that, (like what?), like this
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| Motherfuckers try to dis get put on the hit list
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| Punch punks like I’m pugilist, yo catch the fist
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| When I be taking out MC’s like dogs that need to piss
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| Easily I approach, the microphone because I ain’t no joke (joke)
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| On a scale of one to ten, approximately I’m a thousand
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| Stomp thru your neighborhood, city, or project housing
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| I am something that you never seen before
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| Like your grandparents having sex behind close doors
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| I rhyme like a scavenger that hunts for his prey
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| And probably kill a dozen rappers and just call it a day
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| All I need is bitch that’ll give me wet dreams
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| So I can get my rocks off like erosion in streams
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| I drop science like clumsy professors in auditoriums
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| And stretch niggas out like a motherfucking accordion
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| I make you look stupid like cruisin the back
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| You can cruise in the greyhound and I’ll cruise in my jet
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| I’m impossible to beat like playing tic-tac-toe
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| Celph Titled is famous for spitting ill rap flows
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| Yo, me and apathy are like brothers since birth
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| You catch a bad one and get put under the earth
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| Easily I approach, the microphone because I ain’t no joke (joke)
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| Yo, I find your vital organs and put a machete there
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| Thug type nigga, but bitches say I’m a teddy bear
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| Al Capone style, bruising your back
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| Make you an interracial cat, have blue and half black
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| Block attacks with the raps that I spit on wack
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| Shit on cats, everything I flip on DAT’s
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| Hits hard like Rocky’s spits, cannot be missed
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| Your God be pissed, now I’m on some Nagasaki shit
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| And while your at work, I’ll feed your bitch a sloppy dick
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| I got a hard drive, your mans got a floppy dick
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| The only time you have safe sex and be felt
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| Is if you jacked off in a car, wearing a seat belt
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| Your brains melts to mush, your girl felt the rush
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| Whens Ap’s bounce and bust, the pelvic thrusts
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| Twist your spine, inflict despicable shit through rhymes
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| Critical, incredible, when crippling your pitiful mind
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| Pull out my nine and it’s party and draw time
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| You signed the death mantra and bleed between the white lines
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| Crash the players ball, make the chandelier fall
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| Choke house guests with hors d’ourves made outta sea floors
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| And metaphors betta then yours, settle the scores
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| Leave cats wrapped up in medical gauze
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| You better applause, your feminism
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| I’ll rip out your skeleton, and now ladies and gentlemens…
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| Easily I approach, the microphone because I ain’t no joke (joke) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Joke, artist - Apathy. Album song No Joke / Science of the Bumrush, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп