Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Windows 98, 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
Windows 98 |
| Yo, stop breathing fog on my window |
| I reconfigured your pixel display to disguise shut down system icons as OK |
| buttons |
| Modems fronting on connection rates, switching COM port data transfer levels to |
| 2400 Baud |
| I’m living large like 2,000 terabyte drives in 30 90s |
| Just promoted to device manager—check my stats on Britannica |
| Encyclopedia, read-only media, hidden directories with password protection by |
| all means (You know my steeze) |
| . |
| My flow been has encrypted and programmed to be equipped with the ill shit |
| that most can’t get with |
| My linguistics bring the noise, making connections fail |
| Overload your box and now you know that |
| Minimize operations, control panel hiatus |
| I dropped the DOS for analog studies of orchestration |
| It’s obsolete—1995 was then. |
| Now it’s 1998—we're taking over this update |
| Fuck Bill Gates. |
| I macro hard, take your processes for hostage |
| All the way from 686 to 808D HD imposter |
| Mini tower boxes stuffed with too many program ruled devices, concise with |
| mechanisms |
| Call the crisis center |
| I’m IBM compatible with any Macintosh contender |
| Catch me lounging at the task bar |
| The alcohol’s on caps lock, picking up the tab |
| Shift my control to alternate delete you motherfuckers out the lab |
| Fully activated, forever in a workshop |
| The universal sys ops is not my protocol |
| We hack through great codes and step through busted windows |
| Where silicon chips grow, crushing plastic landscape |
| From Pentium to N-e-x, adjust our broken keyboards |
| Restoring all mainframes and slice the phone line |
| On the internet, I roam across eternal syndrome |
| Chrome-plated Logitechs directs me towards the next intersect |
| Encrypting information, I damage workstations |
| Deface the databases like a race for technology |
| When deep inside the sectors of a one gig hard drive |
| I’m liver with no type of power management |
| Prevent all viruses, search for |
| Now upload my thoughts, make your hardware go soft |
| Rhymes melt through ya modem 'cause I’m powered off radium |
| Waiting for selection of a hidden icon |
| A pointing device that can slice through menus |
| Continuing to wreck, dissecting all websites |
| Consuming the contents of a chat room that’s wack |
| I react, making service collapse—now how’s that? |
| Drop it with the carrier or three-hundred Baud |
| Navigating through directories and instant memory |
| Deep embedded in your system—on excursion you can find me |
| Tryna download the ninety nine beta version |
| Not enough memory for ya Windows |
| POW! |
| All systems are down |
| Not enough memory for ya Windows |
| POW! |
| All systems are down |
| Not enough memory for ya Windows |
| Ya Windows, ya Windows |
| Windows 98 |