Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Station Identification, artist - Channel Live. Album song Station Identification, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
Station Identification |
What’s your station identification |
I spark a mental cypher lasting down through revelations |
Take a trip into my mental cypher, I get hyper |
Sniping-ass MC’s, seem to get me higher |
Like the buddah, bless the cess when I’m smoking |
Hawaiian when I’m rhymin cuz there ain’t no time for joking |
Just lyrical bliss from the depths of the abyss |
Rotating lyrical rhythms like the motions of the wrist |
On a fag, I rag, wack MC’s like Maxi |
Pads, you can’t see me Intellectually, you shallow, mentally, you’re just starving |
I’m rollin on em like Calvin Butts up in Harlem |
Wit metaphors, fuck a nine and clip |
I make a rapper trip like white chicks in horror flicks |
Identify your station or? |
adjustment? |
I’m transmitting, I’m giving MC’s division, through diction |
Cut em half, check the math, like magician |
Conflicting pain on membranes |
I’m running shit and killing flows like some wet dreams |
I maintain, no static feedback when I attack |
Like Shaquille, oh so neal down as I appeal to the masses |
I slash kids to ashes and dust, get strucked |
As I construct skills that build, I don’t be giving a fuck |
Like chastity, my compacity’s unlimited |
Wit no gimmick, kids can’t figure my structure like pyramids |
I’m spirited like psychic and dead men resurrected |
My wisdon’s like prisms when light gets reflected, check it My lyrical missiles, like heat suckers seeking |
Never weakening, feeding off wack rhymers give me strength |
Then I lenghten, wit no measure |
Cuz I’m the ruler of styles, I rocket, the unidentify flowing object |
Time for a station, identification |
Wack rappers, open up your eyes, time for lyrical elevation |
But you can’t handle when I channel |
Entering through mental panels, melting membranes like candles |
Disintegrating mental matter, into ashes |
Steppin up to rappers, just like the Titan Clashes |
Bash an eyelash, my lyrical energy travels fastest |
When propel by the leaves of Hawaii |
Hardcore raps is about skills, so why do gangstas keep trying |
I’m breakin on these muthafuckas like beat, street |
I beat other rappers like? |
sega beats needs to beat meets? |
Vocal technique like Panasonic |
My rhythm moves in motion cuz my skills is like bionic |
Identification, station switched wit my lyrical hydraulics |
I’m cosmic, the unidentify flowing object |
I find that you can’t defined this, other rappers are blind to this |
I’m seeing, you’re bleeding from your sinuses |
Cuz I’m on a higher plane, I’ll be frying brains |
I crack heads like cocaine addicts, automatic |
Dramatic, I break backs, I’m chiropractic |
I got mad, drastic tactics and static |
Gymnastic styles it seems |
Cuz I be flippin and balancing beams |
Of radiation, devastation, you’re facing, no tracing |
You can’t sketch a figure, abstract, no bullet gaps |
If you’re wack, my rhymes are triggered, you’re dying quicker |
I jack, cuz I rip a weak-ass rapper, I shatter |
Cross em, toss em, the more erratic, flow patterns them in the war zone |
Females, you need brail, you can’t see what I’m speaking |
In fact, your delinquency can’t see my frequency |
I speak to thee in tongues like the exorcist |
You can’t test this, I resurrect wit correctness |
I’m defying like death is Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and |
Check your station, check your station (3x) |
Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and |
Check your station, identification |
Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and |
Check your station, yo, it’s time to come real, now yo Open up your eyes and, open up your ears and |
Check your station identification, where you at in '94 |