Lyrics Swearsong - Heiruspecs

Swearsong

Raw rap track, leave your cracked maw jacked on the floor, take a nap
Black, white, red, said all over, got slapped with the newspaper-type
Flavor (whap!)
To the back of the headline, needle teeters on the redline
No thread binds me to keeping decent bedtime
Double ended candle burner, grab a bit of fluid, turn it into a museum
Wanna see me make a being out of wax?
Breathe and relax
I’ll drop it on the page, let me see if it’ll freeze in its tracks
I need this, in fact if I quit, I’m a be dead
Sick of being neck-deep in scrubs like an aggravated pre-med
From jump been dedicated
Talking that rhyme junk
Born out of records, boxes in car trunks
Bred to rap, born to rock like Bruce Springsteen
Louder than Friday the 13th when the blonde screams
Breathing harder, growing stronger
Your girl oughta know, that we can last longer
It’s like a condom when it gets broken
You either test yourself
Or for the best shit you keep hopin'
Keep holding heat
And as a matter of speech
This heat could make this to a scene from Normandy beach
That ain’t to say that dope girls stay tannin'
Its last man standin'
Reckless abandon
Battle cats spitting battle raps to shatter saps
Ladder game playing
Saying rhymes as laughable acts
Unravel the raps and find some insight or a fuck you
Wordplay so thick that a mack couldn’t truck through
Back, back, back, we go
Quarterback style backpedaling
Champion like, always meddling
We always moving forward seeking out the dope shit
You act like a pilgrim for the weak shit your settling
Novice or a veteran it’s how you represent YOU
Any way you do it, single or a crew
We always hit hard, got rhyme and reason
Breaking new ground while you pray to break even
What brain, heads full of trivial pursuit cards
But alphabetizing and color-coding them is too hard
So just load’em up and throw’em as they come
'Til they blowing back the sun, never holding back the tongue
Like the perfect romantic moment during a slow dance
Or a bisexual oral festival with no hands
Oh man, programmed for jams
Grown too big for these britches, but she can keep it in those pants
Damn, I’m a be in trouble with that double bubble popping like a pair
Of twins split a pack of Hubba-Bubba
Slither, wiggle, shimmy, glide, ride to the fly vibe
It’s all right, giggle and jiggle them thighs
Kids with the gift have arrived to provide the soul stirring, no
Slurring, closed current electric flow serving delectable technical
Blows to nose, throat, and sternum
Encourage over the coal burning of slow vermin