Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Migraine, artist - Edan. Album song Primitive Plus, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2000
Record label: Lewis
Song language: English
Migraine |
Check it out |
We’re gonna take it back to 1991 right about now because I don’t think a lot of |
kids out here remember their roots |
Check |
Migraine assault or halt a slug that tries |
To catapult above my lyrical exercise |
Critical pesticides will rest inside your legs, chest and eyes |
Giving excess demise |
To those who pose a threat |
I’m so deceptive |
Schemes of rhyme climb, finally flows connected |
Don’t neglect it once, flows corrected dunce |
Who’s in interpretaion of elevation is a quest |
For blunts and herbs |
Steadily punching herbs |
Dead in they headpiece |
Repetitive MCs |
I fed 'em a leadpiece consisting |
Of tongue twisting hollow tips |
That penetrate their hypothalamus |
For trying to follow this |
Long and windy road |
That leads to cerebal kids to try and decode |
My speech patterns |
When someone interupts my train of thought |
I leave Saturn |
Teleport back to the streets |
Mad and depressed from the stress that reality brings |
Stay away from saturation sort of like a calorie thing |
I battle myself with the lights off, on my T La Rock |
If you were my nuts |
You’d love yourself |
'Cause you would be the jock |
That you ride, more flavour then sodium chloride |
I bust your platinum plaque, in flodium floride |
In the gums of chums who brush to crush germs |
And don’t have bust jerks and work on crush grooves |
Flush dudes down the toilet |
For acting shitty |
When I ain’t producing, rhyming or cutting, I’m smacking titties |
Or acting silly, I tend to smash committees |
Who come half committed and dumb surpass your city |
With one passionately comprised verse, your eyes hurt |
When I made a snack of your brain, I ordered fries first |
Yo, Perce, tell 'em what time it is |
Of my knowledge or wisdom a lyrical rhythm’ll give 'em a migraine |
MCs are dog shit terrible |
I walk with bearable flows that evolve into hysterical throws |
Of rage |
I chose a page that arose from the olden days |
And put your face in a molten glaze |
Behold the maze, it is a result of phrases |
Ultimatums are made when the culture stays |
In phases that keep vultures paid |
Amazing cultivations leave 'em dazed and ultrawasted |
I open up my vault of statements |
The hall, the weightless |
And catapult abrasive basement tapes |
Into the basis of your basic fakes |
Basic training making sure my frames in shape |
Refraining from fracturing the Freudian fragments of my brain |
Train rhyme is giving 'em sodium tablets for nutrients |
You three in the corner |
Oughta |
Be a-- |
Shamed of yourselves like squirts of diarrhea |
Missing the toilet |
Pissing on foiled pests |
Meditate at pedal pace to let the thugs uncoil best |
I hoist fresh voice networks to let jerks know |
They can’t enter the exploits of an expert |
I exert forces to make your head and neck work |
Or shift in accordance with a beat that’s undistorted |
In fact it’s crispness, G Rap’s lisp recieved faxes |
Containing blueprints of my vocal axis |
Poking axes caused more than a mind strain |
My knowledge or wisdom a lyrical rhythm’ll give 'em a migraine |
Yeah, we just chillin' in the lab, me, myself and I |
This goes out to everybody who loves hip hop as much as I do |
Y’all stay up |
Peace |