Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Freq Freq (feat. Kooley High), artist - Clear Soul Forces. Date of issue: 16.09.2013
Record label: Fat Beats
Song language: English
Freq Freq (feat. Kooley High) |
| Relax your mind and let your conscience be free |
| You’re now rollin with them boys from the 313 |
| The riley, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| A logic day, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Tab 1, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Ilajide, we freaking your frequency, frequently, tab 1 |
| We on it, we got it so come and get it |
| We get it, run it, with them writtens |
| Till they pick it up take it |
| You get your ticket to kick it, |
| We take that money and flip it |
| It’s always sunny when I spit it |
| Like I’m ricky the cricket, you get it |
| T baggin the beat like mac and dinner |
| So clik in that thumb steak on that ps’s when I be winning |
| Intelligent gremlin, just pillager and battle more |
| But kooley so, come with a load and explore on that metronome |
| Yeah raquet on they hands and face was in |
| But a case from home alone |
| When the mike is on, I chop the foam |
| Get it crisp like a woffle tone |
| Give me a papa jone and get on the microphone |
| And give em a couple syllables, make em feel it all in they toes |
| Beat my generals with the flow, |
| Just so minimal in the show |
| Just to step up your effidima, put you aim up with these bros, ah |
| Go found and put it down like a fort embattered |
| With snow me and tabi be letting go |
| Like an enemy friend or foe |
| Grippin tight on my thumb before hands are greasy |
| You slippin slow off the roof of a 100 floor building nigga |
| You yellin on sorry, we can’t hold on no more |
| Will be barely we blessed at charice shades will hit you for toes |
| So wipe your feet up, pull the teeth up |
| See the speaker while we beat up |
| These beats Ilajide put in the sense |
| And just to eat up, |
| Relax your mind and let your conscience be free |
| You’re now rollin with them boys from the 313 |
| And riley, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Laz, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Charlie, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| A logic day, we freaking your frequency, frequently, laz |
| Let the gas pedal hit the floor |
| Accelerate the speed like the autobahn, |
| License plate, ree cee |
| S afigan, rollin out with me brethren |
| We 4 deep doors in the back seat cause work tiring |
| I ain’t lazy, know exactly what I wanna be |
| A 25 years old retiress |
| Iry, iry, fire weed, inspires me, the lines of my diary |
| I’m in need of some privacy, and a little piracy |
| I sit back and stream shows, picture me floating |
| And let me tell you how the dreams go |
| I be carry driving, soon as time expiring |
| They admiring my 3 and then they scream hoe |
| Do it in my sleep, wake up and do it with a freak |
| Frequently I’m frequencies, the speakers need |
| Relax your mind and let your conscience be free |
| You’re now rollin with them boys from the 313 |
| And riley, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Noveliss, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| E Fav, we freaking your frequency, frequently |
| Noveliss, we freaking your frequency, frequently, E Fav |
| Over break the beats and salute |
| Became the purple canvas the camera snap of the top row |
| Lyrics aerial moonsault, shooting stars when I press arm |
| Bang it and hit record, you hoes will never catch us slippin |
| Like trippin over your mic chord |
| Rhythm fell in my arms and a nigga just hooped and thumble up |
| Pushing right to my destination, dough to get my people straighten |
| Return of the real, I promise to stay original |
| Rappers become robotic and follow orders like sentinels |
| The imperial lyrical divisuals |
| I be wolverine with adamantium slicing off all the digitals |
| Hold the mic now |
| Marvel comic philantropist, advantages holding twin cannons |
| That cause damage with Wade Wilson |
| Toss em in the Dead Pool, less |
| Rescue the whole culture with a notebook |
| The book of novelist back crackin |
| Plus I put a verse in this torture rack |
| While I’m back packin |
| No slackin, don’t matter just how you stack it |
| Push passion, slanging a rappin, a wolver coup or extended |
| Them cowards looking to clap you up |
| Ready and get the baby, we consider upper crust |
| Family first stand all about a college or a dollar |
| This fragile balance reality, suffer alter my frequency |
| Scale with a couple loose screws |
| Various lines from any given records causes hysteria |
| About to be in your area |
| It’s the hysteria started, break em off proper |
| These spoken words fusing with my accoustics |
| To verbally mental chakras, |
| Flame on, get your face torn, when the bob land slides |
| Jumping land mines in the mud slime |
| Bang, miscellaneous spittin, for them rappers |
| Until they kidneys touch they appendix |
| Or the sound of submission, illin. |