Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Skills, artist - Mr. BradyDate of issue: 04.10.1999
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Skills |
| «Yes» «My styles is wild» |
| «Our fills is all about skills» |
| «I get wild» |
| I got some muscle in your step |
| Cause yo I step behind |
| Steppin' lightly with no footprints oh… |
| I didn’t know you and your peers practice |
| Abstinence I’ma take it well |
| Fuck his light bomb twice |
| Have a craving appetite for |
| Delicious Vinyl |
| But you make me lose my appetite |
| It tastes more tical |
| Whe I raise it up a pole |
| 14 Shotguns for my stanza |
| I tell you what |
| Takin' small doses |
| Its not important it’s |
| That’s when your neck starts nodding |
| And your head starts turning on control the vol |
| Got folks on my shows |
| Intoxicated vibing |
| An when the flo' broadens |
| Start translating through the noggin |
| To those that’s batlike |
| Putting their best work in at night |
| Graveyard shift |
| When my partners do things |
| To make the front of your pants wet |
| Be wetting when you dream |
| Dousing you tools with kerosene |
| Exploding like TNT self detonate |
| I’m making my way around by public trnsportation |
| That’s why you hardly eveer see me at |
| Other people’s shows (why) |
| 'Cause thats somewhere that the |
| Bus probably doesn’t go |
| (fuck it up and here we go) |
| I set aside time for practice |
| Ranging annual to daily |
| Rhymes classic like the captain |
| Album beats crash like its hailing |
| The agenda of failing |
| It’s like the subway derailing |
| I amtrak paving the way for destinations |
| Yo the nation don’t know half |
| The diction that we’re spittin' |
| Interweaving like a ball of yarn |
| Formed into a mitten |
| I’m low-key know to flip facts from paperbacks |
| Or hardcovers discovery channel make you see flannel |
| When I’m finished call me Evidence |
| Always rock the mic phat |
| I write with my right but either handed with a bat |
| Yo I see through fakes |
| Who’s styles that’s not opaque |
| While I’m taking K from Cali to Great Lake |
| Yo from every rhyme I write |
| Cats could find a thousand quotes |
| There’s too many skilled rappers |
| Out of touch like Hall and Oates |
| True my slyle’s wild but didn’t happen overnight |
| This is Evidence and Brady |
| Shady kids can’t keep their sight |
| Dead nimrods get flushed like menopause |
| I got got sweatsuits on your skull |
| Trying to follow along |
| Way past blond, Hydroplaning |
| Explaining your disposition |
| Poll position and an excessive wind draft |
| Hyperventilating your cardiovasc |
| Tend to be the last |
| I’m greeting a card disk |
| 'Cause my life is heartless |
| And I’m kind of like a surgeon when I purge it |
| ??? |
| with a squeeze from my palm |
| It gets withered and Phyllis Diller when I’m high |
| I was pushed out of light sockets electrified for my birth |
| ZZZbillion megahertz |
| Acrobatic Jackie Chan on the mic |
| Taking knowledge of undergrowth |
| With dead skin under my nails |
| From when your neck choked |
| To an artichoke mind of state of a vegetable |
| I guess its edible if you’re a carcass |
| Lying there in the street gutterless |
| Laying minds with no skills in your your beak |