Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bomb Thrown, artist - CZARFACE. Album song Czarface Meets Metal Face, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 29.03.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Silver Age
Song language: English
Bomb Thrown |
I warm it up like Kane in his prime |
Fuck with us, you insane in the mind |
You cowards way out of line |
Money talk, boy you wastin' my time |
You don’t want to put the work in |
You just want a taste of the shine |
Real talk, so it’s hard to trust |
I’m in it for the long ride, like I drive a charter bus |
Scars and blood, from the deadly bars I bust |
In Czar we trust, the army buy they bombs off us |
Blog about it naysayer, you can hardly doubt it |
Who’s the best? |
Who’s the worst? |
We could argue hours |
Runnin' through soldier field, I’m Jordan Howard |
Nowadays they respect money more than power |
Money, power, respect, we all want some |
I ain’t waitin', I needed it, one lump sum |
Made men trade hands with young guns |
They stopped manufacturin' the cloth that I’m cut from |
I be laughin' at the beef as though I’m body-shamin' exes |
Only time you set-trip is when you binge on Netflix |
Reckless, run it up like, «Eso, listen please |
Alright I like the beat except the snare, kick and keys» |
Geez, I teach but I kill them when the class on |
So I got no pupils like Spidey with the mask on |
Generally speaking, each rhyme is five star |
Split personality, I ride with a side car |
I can’t think of the rhyme, it must be misplaced |
It’s on the tip of my tongue like Stan Smith’s face |
Hold on — hmm, something 'bout a fly sound |
And how you got no bars like a dry town, so pipe down |
The beat bumps like bad skin |
«Captain gonna teach stuff», shout to Kraglin that’s the line, yo |
Let the mind take you where the cameras can’t |
It’s very necessary like a Q-Tip Grammy rant |
(DOOM was imminent) |
Due to jet lag, good afternoon or is that night? |
Militants speak proper, some airheads said he act white |
Catch flight, bread good so he tends to pack light |
Got jokes, but usually don’t engage in no snap fight |
Could be considered a waste confrontin' snakes on the back bite |
Detrimental to culture that they lack sight, ass-wipe |
Catch him on stage, mad hype, with a trashed mic |
Month later, in the gutter, glass pipe and a flashlight |
Lookin' 'round for something, he still scurry |
Bewilder, incite riots, the mind’s gone blurry |
There wasn’t really shit to say, much to they chagrin or dismay |
The licks had 'em on the ropes, then he made a big mistake and hit the hay |
Went home and hit the day |
Burn the midnight oil and freak the shit a different way |
Disaster, time is a component |
Settin' fire to rappers in a monumental moment |
And the game’s potent, it’s like a never-ending «ient |
A minute ago it was smiles and hugs, now where the fuck the dough went? |
He so bent it’s like he set the shit straight again |
Bombs fittin' to drop and he ain’t even close to sayin' when |
(V-V-Villain) Nothin' ever stolen |
Was given as a blessin', think the Universe owe him |
Got faith in the vessel but know when to keep rowin' |
Yeah and get up out your own way when deliverin' a poem |
Those who think they do, don’t know him |
No different than a squad of birds ready to blow him |
Sorry Charlie, get back up on your Harley |
Win, lose or draw, plus beat you at Atari |
Drop they ass deep in some far-off Safari |
And prob’ly even got the answer to, «Who the hell are we?» |
Metal Face squad drone, tell the real ones, «Shalom» |
In a calm tone, bomb thrown |