Lyrics Target Practice - Dilated Peoples

Target Practice

Best described with exclamation points instead of
A period, the wheel turns when you’re steerin it
Slow down on the road, we hit a deer in it
That wasn’t practice, more like an accident
Things become targets without askin for it
Some people think the word «practice» is a drill
Somethin not for real, 'til you become the target
Hard to hit, something can’t be seen
Dodgin infared beams with my camoflauge green
Don’t shoot at a mirage and not the real thing
Most hit the innocent, young kids and teens
Jungle gyms and swings, sing hyms and take queens
Overthrow your whole element with relevant themes
Raaka-Raaka Iriscience and Babu at my highest
I throw trees at the crowd like «catch this»
Target practice
(Chorus-Babu mixing)
«Bull's eye, direct hit, don’t miss»
«Touch the mic and see how close you might get»
«Target practice»
«Bull's eye, direct hit, don’t miss»
(Iriscience)
Yo, men want the targets, pull, blast, blast
In a flash clay pigeons are shattered and fall fast
Sport shooter, slash last resort shooter
Put mine and yours in rhyme wars, a sharp shooter
You bring the rocks I’ll bring the slingshots
And I snap in all directions 'til everything drops
I used to hit pop bottles with bb’s
Now I spit at pop models and their little CDs
Duck down like I go at BDP with no retreat
My scope is like the predators when runners compete
My sight is beyond LED and 3-d
My third got you in crosshairs like P-E
Raaka’s a marksman, start of the art shit
To hit the bull’s optics, that’s my main target
I focus on the center until the path narrows
Let go and split your arrow in my arrow
Archery, plus throw darts, heavy artilary
Heavy delivery, pushin every ability
Spectacular, miraculous
I blast 'til I can’t miss, target practice
Target practice, target practice, target practice, target practice
It’s like this
Target practice, target practice
Target practice
Bull’s eye, direct hit, don’t miss, uh