Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Offspring, artist - Del The Funky Homosapien. Album song Both Sides Of The Brain, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1999
Record label: Hiero Imperium
Song language: English
Offspring |
aiyyo whattup el-p? |
yo whattup del-phonic? |
nuthin man; |
I was on the bus the other day man |
Tryin to listen to my walkman |
This motherfucker all in my face |
Tryin to holla at me and shit |
Im like, «man — dude you just a offspring» |
Im very interplanetary and vary with various experiments |
Gregarious with verbals for your merriment |
What el-p tell me to use, the beat di-ffuse |
You lose and get played like a mood |
Im rude revolting leave you molting |
No thing — compares to my compadres |
Well take it to broadway |
Its beautiful the execution flawless |
You all wet, soggy groggy when you saw me But I never tire whenever I adjust my thrust |
Females blush I bring the california gold rush |
Your flow sucks, your stamina cant endure |
I manicure your lavender amatuer landed words |
You havent heard? |
cannabis analyst |
Add a twist to my manuscripts |
Il have you sent to the showers |
Me and el-p, is superpowers like the us and ussr |
Blow you like the deathstar |
Leave your chest scarred like sagat |
My plot proliferates, hits you like barbituates |
In a twist of fate and splits your face |
Its the great deltron-z, soundbombing |
Run to mommy, Im airin out your dirty laundry |
Im shooting then executing youre aiming from mainstream |
Your brain tingles, strangles your lame jingles |
Bingo I bring flows that attack like wild dingoes |
Cant be pigeonholed, anything goes gringo |
Here we go — up jumps the outcast, sever the connection |
My mostly overconfident acquaintances pull numbers |
To the anti-potients and fear that I drip sick in And rise out of my shell to teach sick or bedridden emcees |
Til they fear living |
Blockin the cocks that bust shots, spittin smitten bitches |
Til the day of the locust, kitchen cutlery cuts |
Dmx 16 crossfade with a strange lust |
Dr. strangelove, born in the back of the train, fameless shame |
Shared with acne pick brain pit |
Tried to capture the moment of subtle death |
Destro magnet spit — action fit into capsules |
Slipped in the dirty waterway speaker cabinets |
Maximum b-boy axiom stabbin shit |
Intellectual women find that my rhyme style relaxes them |
And wonder if I fuck to the same rhyme style pattern |
Its autobahn pipe bomb glass fragment shatter |
To break new jacks at after parties for actin actual |
Factor x into your formula for fresh thoughts |
With a megalon wingspan that bulge from the back of the text radical |
Radio time tracks flatten your flattery |
The tradition excuse used by biters; |
ambiguously homo |
Knotted tights and colored underwear |
Thats wrapped around the brittle legs of Things without weapons — Im grief diseased brethren |
Swim in a sea of shit and malt liquor, feed on excedrin |
Radiate through tenements; |
emcees bleed estrogen! |
Chorus: del and el-p |
Watch insanity increase |
Break it up piece by piece |
Never weak in the least |
Think you better see a priest |
(mortality, dont battle me, its costly |
We the raw breed all of yall is just the offspring) |
yo del kick that shit again |
Tomahawking your tom-tom club |
You tried to holler at me at my show, lookin like you on drugs |
You love the del Ill thug you, bumpin juvenile |
Thinkin you in style, packin like you movin now |
I move top speed, scott free with cock-d |
Knock-kneed delivery that scorches you like lockheed |
Dr. decibel, my deliverance is questionable |
But as far as this session goes Im wreckin skulls |
Better check your pulse, we visionaries with this |
Scarin the shit outta record labels next to fatal |
Right beside homocide bonafied bewilderment |
Militant diligence like Im buildin pyramids |
Peel your cap reveal your lack of flavor |
Track your pager plus your celly |
Piss on your pele pele, catch you comin out of belly |
Dumbin out daily, tell me, what was your rationale |
Think of matchin del I disconect your pactell |
My mobile code words, showboat with no hope |
For any rhyme you kick or any beat you load up Leave you catatonic off a bag of chronic, skanless with anthems |
Stomp your little cadence out at random |
Ran-random, ran-random |
El and del-aphonic known to go off on a tantrum |
Now you know. |
For the backpackers, for the computer hackers |
For the misplaced famous, for all the video gamers |
For the derranged krylon stain makers |
For the ungry hungry ass verbal brain rapists |
That new york to the bay shit! |
«go off, go off!» |