| I’ll break ya brain cells off at the stem your status is stupider
|
| Ap' is a nuclear blast, heart blacker than Lucifer
|
| I could sit and write a list of all the shit I would do to ya
|
| Head so big, I rest my fitted cap on Jupiter
|
| You ain’t built like this, you a soft carbon copy
|
| A care bear compared to a auto-box rotty
|
| For raps like crack I supply to the blacks
|
| Drop pipes, cop mics, say good-bye to your rocks
|
| I’m a motherfuckin star, the status of John Lennon
|
| Y’all are ordinary people, singin' to John Legend
|
| Write a track dissin' Ap'? |
| Better X that out
|
| I don’t play that, like rap in a redneck’s house
|
| I could have ya brain cells spinnin quicker than Sprewell’s
|
| Ya female e-mailing me all ya details
|
| I don’t dig up dirt, I shake the Earth
|
| And I never say names, I wouldn’t waste a verse
|
| Off of the top I’m hot, and when they dare me to write
|
| Prepare to carry a mic to a burial site
|
| I’m a pioneer fuckin' up stereotypes
|
| I snatch chains as a kid, made you carry ya bikes
|
| I got an addiction to spitting shit is heroin-like
|
| Story teller speak of hell and the American plight
|
| Money blower, funny though it seems embarrassin' right?
|
| Rock shows, blow the do' on a pair of Air Nike’s
|
| All Night!
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, Yo
|
| You know the rules, I cruise with a tough band
|
| You in the fuckin closet with brooms and a dustpan
|
| I clean sweep ya fleet, body softer than gelatin
|
| Now you on the mic, yeah right my life in ya skeleton dummy
|
| I’m in the place, you can tell when it’s bloody
|
| I freakin', pay for ya face grade and mail you the money
|
| I’m ready I’m willin' to watch, spy on seven that flinch
|
| Let’s see if I don’t kill 'em in five seconds or less
|
| I keep comin' back like rashes on an infant
|
| You don’t wanna chance to clash with the magnificent
|
| Seven of us, it’s heaven but never enough
|
| So I tighten the vice grip, so his head’ll get crushed
|
| Look, I’m out of sight now, deep in this music
|
| Leavin' 'em upside-down, fiendin for new shit
|
| Ribkat it’s the roll power creep in the booth quick
|
| Blow a hole in ya back, just to eat off a soup dish
|
| You bitch
|
| Yo!
|
| The Demigod stands for killa’s
|
| More specifically we Deadly Entertainers Maniac Ignorant GODzilla’s
|
| And we, never took the route them other crooks took
|
| Cuz we kept recipes for human flesh in my mother’s cookbook
|
| Get souffled in more ways then ten
|
| Celph Titled flow is chokin' the wind, my favorite pastime’s soakin' in sin
|
| The most accurate sharpshooter with no scope
|
| Shoot with my left and watch you all die from secondhand smoke
|
| I’m reppin' my fam SO, You better act cool
|
| My soul will make a Ouija Board jump up and slap you dummy
|
| You not thinkin' smart
|
| I bust so many blamma’s and blicka’s that I should start a rock band called
|
| «Blink & Spark»
|
| Sinkin' sharks with no harpoons, my arsenal
|
| Is sawblade carbon tools slidin' ya coffin through
|
| Apathy’s insane and I’m the same as my brother
|
| I’m like a circus show sniper, I aim for the juggler
|
| Catch a case and before the judge can slam down the gavel
|
| The whole room duck and hide from grenade shrapnel
|
| These rap verses I be breezin' through
|
| Cuz I’m like a celebate, under oath, Un-Fuckin-Believable
|
| (behind turntable scratchin) x2
|
| Demigods, Fort Minor
|
| «Ya Ya heard of us»
|
| Styles of Beyond
|
| «Ya Ya heard of us, the murderous» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song All Night , by - Celph Titled. Song from the album The Gatalog, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп