Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Silence & I, artist - Celph Titled. Album song The Gatalog, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 15.10.2002
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
Silence & I |
| «Two of a kind… Silence and I |
| We’ll find a way to work it out» |
| (Intro: Vinnie Paz) |
| Yeah… Pazmanian Devil |
| Louis Dogs… hahahahahaha |
| AOTP, Celph Titled |
| King Syze, baby |
| Walk with me (hahahahahaha) |
| Yeah… |
| (Verse 1: Vinnie Paz) |
| Yo, I mastered the flow |
| I know death more than Lazarus know |
| And me defeated is infrequent like Nazareth snow |
| Hold your urn into the air so the ashes can blow |
| Hold my burner in the air so the pacifists know |
| That I ain’t scared to start a revolution |
| Another fixed election, another injustice, I’ma execute 'em |
| Land of the free, home of the bravest |
| Who you think the victim, who you think the fuckin' slave is? |
| People on the grind, workin' for minimum wages |
| Workin' 9 to 9 and seein' a minimum paper |
| Not to mention the inadequecies of welfare |
| And the lack of a proper universal health care |
| They don’t know about the common man |
| They care about distractin' you and hope that Israel will bomb Iran |
| I got a bombin' hand, and it’s for George Walker |
| Meet your maker, motherfucker, meet your Lord Father |
| «It's gangsta how we rock, while you watch |
| Attracted to our style, this is how we get down |
| With big jewelry and big guns |
| We get busy, it get grizzly» — Mobb Deep |
| (Verse 2: King Syze) |
| Yeah, uh… |
| Yo this is concrete rap, Q-Dimension pavin' the way |
| It’s a sacred day, waitin' for my patience to pay |
| I’m a horse that’s grazing the hay, that’s sayin' olé |
| I’m the evil that’s born when someone good passes away |
| I’m most good at foul things, the love and hate an unwanted child brings |
| Right, left, life, death, distress that a trial brings |
| The best of the wild kings, that’s us |
| This is smoked out rap, get high, angel dust |
| Roll with niggas that be payin' them dues |
| Playas that don’t give a fuck if they lose |
| Live they whole life drainin' booze |
| Doc already told me, «Is it rap or smoke?» |
| Is it Bars of Death for life, or a hole in my throat? |
| Hard-headed, livin' my life regrettin' shit |
| This that next shit, Syzemology: the new testament |
| Do this for my niggas Kong and the fam' |
| Yo I do this for them haters sayin' my songs don’t bang |
| (Verse 3: Celph Titled) |
| If this industry’s a movie, I’m the starrin' actor |
| You’re an assistant for the intern of the back up gaffer |
| But I’m only a rapper, standin' on two feet, backstage with four whores |
| On all fours, and that’s on all tours |
| How long can I spit a punchline and an ill statement |
| And keep your attention span on my records for entertainment? |
| No explainin' it, you do the math, I did the math teacher |
| Ms. Anita spread wide, under the gymnasium bleachers |
| Fucka, don’t matter which herb speak |
| 'Cause we got pistols with barrels longer than Big Bird’s beak |
| Plus the creamy white powder, yeah we sellin' to Milk D |
| My audio too raw for children, it’s filthy |
| I never leave the crib without a pack of Now and Laters |
| I pack now, and *BLAAT* later |
| And ain’t no playa you can find rollin' down the strip with hundred rounds and |
| clips |
| Packin' MACs in the back of the Ac' on some Big Pun shit |
| When you hear the «click» your clique run quick, dick |
| We transportin' handguns in minivans; |
| that’s the «pistol whip» |
| Celph Titled, the gourmet chef, ripple effect |
| An inconspicuous spic with kitchen mittens when I’m splittin' ya neck |