Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mission Statement, artist - Diabolic. Album song Fightin Words Instrumentals, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.01.2015
Record label: Warhorse
Song language: English
Mission Statement |
I’m your worst nightmare, I spit the shit you’re dreaming of |
Dope as intravenous drugs flooding River Phoenix' blood |
Building from the ground up 'til I’m in the suite above |
Buzzed, twisting greener bud than Wiz Khalifa does |
See I ain’t rhyming 'bout the diamond rings and flashy cars |
Finer things than caviar, I just bring it as we are |
And it got me thinking that the bar’s been raised to mount position |
With the weight and pounds I’m lifting barely makes an ounce of difference |
Still fans play it loud, they say I make 'em proud to listen |
They use it to escape like tunnels breaking out of prison |
And they relate 'cause life’s a bitch who knows her way around my kitchen |
But wouldn’t give me cake with flour and baking powder mixed in |
Bank account’s deficient, withdrew and overdraft |
Can’t afford to see the sky go from blue to overcast |
So I use emotion as fuel, and spew explosive gas |
Like a supernova blast coming through your phonograph |
I choose to go a path that don’t meet the status quo |
Chose to be an average-Joe, earn my keep and stack some dough |
I chose to speak the truth 'cause the people had to know |
And they told me go to Hell with the demons trapped below |
They said Hip-Hop was dead, they confirmed it as deceased |
'Til I reached out the casket through the dirt and grabbed their feet |
So I could pull them underground, where verses smash the beat |
And every person that meet is vermin turning savage beast |
My work’s a masterpiece, think not it’s all the same |
At least I’ve gotten all the chains from here to shopping malls in Maine |
Watching y’all drop the ball from atop the Hall of Fame |
Then just stop and call the game like these drops of falling rain |
Yo it’s not my fault the pain’s too much for angels on your shoulder |
And their inner demons represent my name up on a poster |
Sean came a long way, now he’s way beyond the culture |
An abomination spawned from the greatest song composers |
I’ll napalm your soldiers, I’ll spray a loaded Glock |
I’m not like these people, I embrace the culture shock |
I’ll celebrate the day my foes are laid below to rot |
And chase Patron with shots of Jack straight and smoke some pot |
Got the same approach with cops 'til they raid the local spots |
Or invade my home with SWAT and snipers aim from over top |
That’s not cool anymore, they say the game is going Pop |
Rap about playing beer pong with a case of Rolling Rock |
I’m like fuck that, to me it’ll always be the golden age |
Skills matter and ill rappers like me control the stage |
Releasing flows and waves leaving people so amazed |
They bend over backwards, their calf muscles reach their shoulder blades |
From beneath the overpaid, where it’s not commercialized |
'Bolic drops the certified fire, watch him burn alive |
I will lock it worldwide, Hip-Hop will turn the tides |
And whoever fucking doubted me, y’all are first to die |