| Yeah, Thought for Food volume two, Get it nigga, Get it
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| Yall know what to do man, Get it, Get it man, Get it
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| Yeah, I’m out here man, I had to go back in the cave with it
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| Go back then, Yeah, Bout to take it back in the jungle on em nigga
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| You know who it is, Yeah you know who it is, Know what it is
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| Yo, Street leuitent, Never get caught like Joe Bennett
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| Near the project with no science book in it
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| I spoke in hymns, Soul soaking in grim
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| Meteor showers from nine month double pimp
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| Clark Davidson, Microphone berretic exotic blend
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| Appearing outta wind, Drink worms in my gin
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| Spin gats like synapse, Collapse and get bitch slapped
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| I’m that Fever Pitch rap, Free to slit hats
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| Slam graves on top of mismatched filling dark holes
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| Blow rockets and rifles, Mind went sightful
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| Use bourbon when I’m serve’n sniper shots off the Eiffel
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| Charles Whitman pipe flow, Continue violent cycles
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| Scripts from Glasgow, Hassle like white wolves
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| Bodies on the rafter every time the mic blows
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| Engineers disappear only their storie’s on the white news
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| Ghetto candid cam so the sidewalk’s slight bruised
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| My mind off too, Cloverfield high mountain view
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| Roaming in twos, Goons with scopes in our shoes
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| You never saw bullets float like smoke from shrooms
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| Re-open still open wounds
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| Hope’n I choke em with opium laced news
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| Flash through, Skulls crushed like cashews
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| One blast from the slug cause cash rules
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| Habitual offender, Exodus lateral
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| Escape jail with thirty days, Be careful plan patterning
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| Alley gunman, Dungeon blue print plan running
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| Schemes to eliminate teams by the dozens
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| Time Square with a boxing ring, Shots busting
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| Tare at the rocks watch me bury bodies underneath production
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| 106 and Playground emcee abduction
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| Direct Effect a sudden death you know who get the rock first
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| McKinley shot burst leave em in a hot hearse
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| Thought for Food volume two, Salute motherfucker
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| Naaaz-areth, I tooold yall
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| Lute shoot to kill fuck losing a limb
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| Got a problem with Bronze you got a problem with him
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| Play the night like the owl, Stomach raw from the growl
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| Appetite still destruction, Dumping is nothing
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| Fuck your life, I snatch your corpse spit on your casket
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| Keep the tool box in use, Loose screws with the ratchet
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| Judge Hatchet, Niggas get sentences to maximum
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| For the jury, I’ll plead only facts on the track
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| Balance bricks on my back, Put the Jets on the map
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| When I ride stay high, Forty cal on my lap
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| Screaming, Peeping niggas Living Color like Keenan
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| I explode on the track fuck trying to get even
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| Killing season, Only rhyme noun for a reason
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| Duct tape niggas up til they no longer breathing
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| Ghetto heathen, Breezing through a field of dreams
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| Black Day, Only light be the vision in beams
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| Ferocious, Call me scoliosis damage your spleen
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| Leave you bent over, Four fingers up to the soldier
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| As I awake to the aroma in the morning like Folgers
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| Bring harm with this Desert in the present I’m danger
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| Real familiar with this shit nigga far from a stranger
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| It’s the late night street life keeping me hype
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| Like a fiend for a fix I start with the pipe
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| Yo I’m everything you not son we nothing alike
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| Medulla splitter, Goddamn right I deliver
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| Underground dictator like the late great Hitler
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| Live harshest, Focusing only on target
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| Move heartless, Fuck how you feel regardless
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| I’m the hardest, One fifty-one with the liquor
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| Throw it back on the daily just to tickle the liver
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| Direct Effect a sudden death you know who get the rock first
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| McKinley shot burst leave em in a hot hearse |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Associated , by - Bronze Nazareth. Song from the album Bronzestrumentals Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп