Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fucksoundcheck, artist - Copywrite. Album song The High Exhaulted, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 23.06.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Eastern Conference
Song language: English
Fucksoundcheck |
My birth certificate reads: Earth’s most descriptive MC |
My death certificate’ll read: I’m dead, quit listening to me But while I’m here I’ll use the planet as a platform |
To plant panic in faggots and bash 'em with a mask on My stamina’s twice more to boost |
I persuaded Anakin from the light side towards the truth |
So panic in fright when handing me mics, wars insue |
From the mic lord ya family likes more than you |
Your head’ll flinch when I nurse you to trauma |
Cause my add libs are iller than any verse you can conjure |
Megahertz will persecute you with honor |
Wheathermen’ll take it one step further and murder ya momma |
Climb the highest mountain, spit bottomless venom, shot 'em with rhythm |
I don’t get problems, I give 'em |
My skin is made of the sharpest and thinnest blades |
My notebook’s more amazing than the one Guinness made |
So when I rock what’s not to like |
I use your rhymes as an example of what not to write |
Your faction is nothing, you’ll get chewed for the hell of it If rappin was fuckin ya whole crew would be celebit |
Copywrite’ll shit a million words before your first sentence drops |
Or before my double engine stops, whichever comes first |
Cause I’m determined to serve y’all with permanent words, murdering germs |
By avoiding the most obvious method, my hobby is catching |
And you can’t dodge the Intrepid |
Tis the season I’ll ceast you breathing through ya chest |
That’s not a threat, it’s the reason I was sent |
(Chourus) |
Fucksoundcheck the crowd wants it now |
Fuck site, by scent I’ll hunt you down |
There’s 5 senses 4 seasons 3 emcees 2 down 1 breathing 1 weasing |
Anyone who dis O-H town, I’m shittin on DJ’s that don’t have 2 copies of this, I’m shittin on When we on stage shut up until my click is gone |
Show respect before your bitch is gone |
Piercing me in the eyes is like staring at the sun for a minute or 3 |
You’ll close your eyes blink and still see an image of me No camera can capture the essence |
One thousand years nuthin changed, Dracula never had a reflection |
Fuck rockin mics, I’m cracking domes with African Stones |
My practice sessions a classic alone |
Give me six minutes, teams a stripped gimmicks |
I don’t wanna be mainstream, I wanna PISS in it |
I’ll eat you twice, invite you back for thirds to lose |
Try again and get ate 4 times like 32 |
By a raw crew that’ll bury all you |
With Freestyles that result in thousand dollar lawsuits |
Hardcore, so while you spin on cardboard |
I evole the practice of shit talking to an art form |
And your banned from the mic |
I get more Dap over the course of day |
Then you’ll see in the span of ya life |
Damn right, but I got all day if y’all wanna learn the hard way |
Show y’all how a thunder god plays |
To sum it up, I’ll Kill you |
I don’t blame you for being wack |
I blame your fans for being dumb enough to feel you |
Travel with me, I’ll pass you by 10 styles, battle? |
y’all ain’t no battle emcees, y’all are pen pals |
You ran, I launch rapid torpedos |
Now I’m dead on ya ass like rabbit fur speedos |
God damnit I laminate what I write |
After seeing how y’all are contaminating the mic |
I animate when I strike right off the paper to cause random acts of Slamming a fan’s axe dead in ya man’s back |
My monstrous accomplice wands’ll stun fast |
with the promptness of a gun blast |
I’m like, semen to semen I cum out the hardest |
And I won’t scalp tickets to a concert, I scalp the artist |
(Repeat chorus) |