Lyrics Blow Ya Mind - Clear Soul Forces

Blow Ya Mind

Put up your lighters
Your Highness has got the Midas
For the blind kids, everything I touch turns to 3PO eye lids
I’m fresh off winning a battle royal with 10 guys
And riding a luge board on the freeway under a Semi
I be the one, my lyrical weighs a ton
Get in tuned with your spiritual
What goes around comes around, life’s inter tube
Some call it Karma, but kicking raps is my Dharma
Hold my notebook while the Samurai sheds his armor
Do the exorcism look around
Open mouths to spew the truth that I’ve possessed aloud
Digesting vocals really Ouija at laying vocals down
I found spitting I do it.
now we used to be wishing like rubbing genies out
You can’t stop the rain how Kazaam didn’t
We shall invoke a different style, iller lyricists, bomb rhythm now
Bounce, bounce, bounce to the beats
Shit that bang in the twelves and the sub woofers shuffle and rattle the street
I be feasting with verbal ammo, rappers quickly stick to day roles
Put them hands up and say «ho»
Stacking dollars and euros
Travel the globe for bills murdering rappers at will
Building skill that supersede time continuous real
A generous kill, to every MC lacking the skill
I’ll paint an extraneous reel if you napping on ill
You packing the steel?
I’m slapping your grill like slabs on the grill
Keep saying we some backpack as we jacking your Jill
Then meals on the wheels, the food for thought if you know the drill
Them Fruity Loops make fruity pebbles get them General Mills
And I will not give an ounce for the bounce to pay me a bill
I’m in it for thrills, to see how niggas’ll drop when I spill
(Uh) eat every MC getting served and feed they bitch the bill
Real spit I’m tryna drop the shit that bitches feel (uh)
My dick, I mean stick is popping like a blick
If I was writing with a Bic, ink I’d be running out of it
If rhyme was a crime then I’m bout to blow ya mind
It’s your motherfucking favorite and I’m bout to blow ya mind
L.A.Z I’ll kick a rhyme and I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
It’s the wordplay sensei I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
I’m 'bout to blow ya mind, yeah, I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
I’m 'bout to blow ya mind, yeah, I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
I’m 'bout to blow ya mind, yeah, I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
I’m 'bout to blow ya mind, yeah, I’m 'bout to blow ya mind
Tick tick
My fuse, my wick
Diminish quicker, slick focused and yolky lyrics hit
Feel it tickle your liver, that shaking it made your body quiver
Deliver rhymes more explosive than four c4 boxes bombing your lodges
Kavorkian on morphine, I don’t feel a thing
I murder fools and laugh with a butter knife and a mic about to get surgical
I ain’t done yet, no guns yet, I’m Danny Larusso on the beach
Mastering my technique watching the sunset, achieving balance with a crane kick
Get your brain split, they should have never let me back in it
Inspector Gadget in a straight jacket, go go gadget rap hands
Throwing the mic stand like a javelin, you feel it in your abdomen
The adamant subterranean savages, no relation to Macho Man
Rest in peace, while I ascend the turn buckle
And drop an elbow in your chest piece on the best beats
Uh, general Jet Li, my tiger dragon spe-cies
Crouching, hid in your ex-fleece
With the neck she’s giving it
Babble bouncing, dribbling, reassembling niggas with rhythm
And move when they feeling it, concealing the fucking dope style
Welcome to lockdown, the Kung pow coming with more flavor than sweet and sour
The later now, to test your might, give me the mic I break it down
To elements I’m peppermint freshely, rob your domiciles
So hide ya childs, my flash kick shit ripping like Charlie, Guiles
'Til I saw Van Vader he crossed paths with Vega
I’m laying heavy cuts got 1−6 like genesis
Playing the game of slaying lyricists
Where you look for gold you find searching and digging for platinum Youtube gems
Shining clearly I’ll drape you in cloudy jewelry
Supply your sentences, you’re now listening to the judge and jury
I make you listen clearly, drop some Visine that makes your vision blurry
Bars will have the court adjourning, spit some more shit
Spit some more shit unscripted and explicit, solicit the hip hip lobby and
cyphering
With the visitors middle finger I turn it to ritualistic contract signing
It’s only designing was monetizing the rhyming
Undoubtedly blind your optic like I got two fucking rockets strapped directly
to my back
Here to terminate the wack, nah, cause this ain’t that and that ain’t this
When I’m focused I hit, then we rocking this bitch
Get the money and split
Give me the money, I master shit
Practice it with a laxative
Belligerent lumberjack on the track shit
I want my axe back, been swinging a mic
The last half of this rap on accident