Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Weight , by - Company Flow. Release date: 20.01.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Weight |
| Permanent like ink in epidermis, from tattoo artists |
| Discard this, thought of partnership you may have fought |
| For this position and status, this entrepeneurship |
| Matter of fact, madness I planned this like serial killers are banished |
| Flows aquatic like fishes' surroundings, underground and |
| It’s pounding, like pregnancies, with the expectancy |
| Of three times three, use my mental nine to climb |
| Like gladiator on wall, on call like physicians |
| To deliver my labor you savor the flavor like Punisher to the cure |
| A parent’s first picture, of they mixture of offspring |
| Ring ring the alarm, cause I set strong cases of fire |
| From my wire connections and disconnections |
| To settin sparks cause then I’m wettin, microphone checkin |
| Disrespectin amateurs plus they mentors don’t be a sore sport |
| If it’s meant yours, just pretend I liked yours |
| I can be a bit demanding, acceptin, nothing less than the best |
| I don’t just flip shit anyone can kid, I stick the landing |
| And stand out, amongst most so don’t stress |
| Trying to touch us, you can’t come close like phone sex |
| I stay ahead of the pack, if you fuckin with Treds |
| Know that I cover the spread so always bet on black |
| I’ll give you your money’s worth, serve up somethin delicious |
| While, most of these rappers be makin my tummy hurt |
| Got me upset, sick of these crabs who can’t kick it |
| All addicted to rhyming, I’mma stick them in rehab |
| Get em cleaned up you know, show em the light that they’re |
| All bark and no bite, like a tree trunk |
| We slash and burn em, Indelibles, The Fire In Which |
| Suckers are finished, may they flow, rest in pieces |
| Cause we’re dominating, so while they’re busy happy |
| Just to be nominated son, we give acceptance speeches |
| Takin the crown, front doors, breaking em down |
| We some BAD MOTHERFUCKERS, that’s what many said |
| They also said, your time will come, it’s time to take it cause |
| We just couldn’t stand the wait like Jenny Craig |
| Now that’s my man the scripture puzzler, bringin a pain device disguiser |
| For infinite wisdom seeker knowledge of life rhyme provider |
| On dual DATs that strip time codes down from live feed |
| To master one-twenty-four bits at ninety-six KhZ |
| While you just now trying to get up on Dungeon D&D |
| Thinking Indelibles will crash and burn you must be lazy and obscene |
| We fire sequential plasma bursts, my verse? |
| provides wrecks in concert D? |
| Slingin em 40 bottles frozen from rooftops and projects |
| Beware watch below for falling objects, rupturing your optical |
| Two one-hundred watt mono blocks is optional |
| To try to match wits with the Diamondback unstoppable |
| Background poseurs fiend for limelight exposure |
| When we rally back touch the microphone playtime is over |
| Who’s trying to see the CF graf crew that visualize |
| Top to bottom, and stand out in New York like an L.A. gang tag do |
| Master of mathematical empirical principal |
| Metallic medicinal, mixed with herbs, science and mineral |
| Yo crews start to walk, when we crack the five series hood |
| Disengage the? |
| passive, rip open an issue casing? |
| Trying to sidestep backwards when it’s this drama that you facing |
| Aiyyo, the bullseye pulls my leg and beggin for mercy |
| My verse be the Don King-in, come out swinging |
| I’ll to kill it, apply my skill shit and the floor’s coming |
| Who ain’t feelin' my joint, so what that mean your jaw’s numbing? |
| Chill let me stop, gotta get my joint dislodged |
| And retire armies of niggas, with my dishonorable discharge |
| And get real, pulling from deep and you gots to play up? |
| You talk about, «Respect mines,» steady missin your layups |
| Hoes to foes, I start staring, wild truculant |
| Heart tearing style, fuck you then, order your demise |
| I’m well stocked, shell shocked, describin the bombs alarms |
| Incoming, when drum and vocal localize |
| For niggas talkin bout Lucci, must be modeling Susan |
| Erica Kane bitch like, reputation for losing |
| Listen do you hear voices saying, «Damn that’s a sucker» |
| Paranoid, looking like Fuzzy Zoeller at the Rucker |
| Hey yo my nihilist, stylus, cuts matter the finest |
| The prime of the sequence hides my vicious defense assignment |
| Your cacophonic visuals bond strictly to bitch tissue fissure |
| Yeah, the burn from what I’m worth operation |
| I hate, let’s exterminate bandwidths and communicate physically |
| Bezerk non happers will sleep on third rails for the symmetry |
| Enlist this, from small pox to syphillis, all stars |
| Shit on punchlines insidious kid, now jump off ours |
| Only buck fifty you ever handed out was with a Metro card |
| I can fit the sum of your Tom Thumb concepts in a thimble |
| Simple bitches, Doctor Death lacing barbed wire stitches |
| A herd of mad cows bust through brick walls like Jumanji |
| Sixty-Five upsetter, malicious sickness scatalogics |
| Prophets turned skeptics, skeptics found Jesus |
| Right-Wingers turned leftist, everybody jumped on the dick of independents |
| Sorry we don’t want you anymore get lost kid find an exit |
| But is it, uh, live you fuckin suckers |
| I woulda been a witness to collapse your fame squadron |
| Part of me’s still a fan trying to understand how to be a master |
| While pupils watch me dilate and turn your fuckin grill to alabaster |
| Indelibles… |
| (Len scratches up various excerpts from «Fire in which you burn») |
| Company Flow… J-Treds |
| J-J-J-Juggaknots |
| Company Flow… J-Treds |
| J-J-J-Juggaknots |
| Company Flow… Co-Co-Company Flow |
| J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-Treds |
| J-J-J-J-J-Treds |
| Jugga-Jugga-Juggaknots |
| Jugga-Jugga-Juggaknots |
| Com-pany-Flow |