Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Darkness, artist - Hieroglyphics. Date of issue: 31.08.2003
Song language: English
Darkness |
| Before we get outta here, I got this track I want y’all to wreck on |
| Gimme 6 lines…6 lines… that's all I need |
| Alright, ok |
| I write in the light of day and in the night for pay, nigga! |
| You my main motherfucker, right? |
| You duck and hide when Pep Love touch a mic |
| Out the back door |
| If you ain’t got that dough |
| I’ll click clack blow and kick down doors |
| I roll Backwood trees with that emerald green |
| When I’m on the scene, chillin with my nigga Rolls gettin blown |
| Watchin ladies with them pretty eyes and straight teeth |
| Sittin' in my ride, playin make belief |
| Like, «That's my car!» |
| «That's my girl!» |
| «Imma go up to my house in the hills after I burn one» |
| I write rhymes for the fun of it |
| But give me all my money or your gonna be facin capital punishment |
| I’m a soldier of fortune |
| My style is extortion |
| And I’m gorging more than a portion |
| Take an excoursion, oceanography odyssey-D |
| Ballin' 3-D |
| You don’t wanna see me, not for one second |
| Not for one bar on one record |
| You think you come hard, then come test it |
| I’ll turn a threat into a confession |
| I’ll turn a mic into a blunt weapon |
| Make you forget what you was once reppin' |
| See I’m a bass drum beater |
| Mad high hatter |
| Ensnare the snare with this here |
| Choke the life out 'it |
| Revive it and vitalize 'it |
| Prop it up proper so you guys’ll idolize it |
| I’m not at all surprised that you’re modeled after my shit |
| The masterminds is ahead of whatever the times is! |
| You niggas saps, maple leaf |
| All your raps is make believe |
| I get an eighth and Breathe like I’m Toni Braxton |
| Get up on the action you gettin no reaction |
| Slowly stogie packin' |
| Lean back one foot up |
| Your style is put up |
| My turn to burn good up |
| You’re boring. |
| I’ll suffocate you while you’re snoring |
| Kill 'em Softly like Lauryn |
| You spit and I’m pouring |
| My flow’s adequately hydrated |
| And I waited to vibrate it |
| It’s live ain’t it! |
| Fuck with me, get stuck with cutlery |
| Luxury, I’m living luckily! |
| Music is my sanctuary (it's my life!) |
| They shootin blanks |
| My every round is a live one |
| Surviving the mind numbing propaganda |
| Eyes closed with blindfolds |
| Handcuffed and ambushed, struck by the lightning bolt (oh shit!) |
| I’m comin out your plasma screen like 'The Ring' |
| Make excellent cadavers of your fascist regime |
| Cause I grab the mic and niggas couldn’t understand |
| Why I’m fuckin' up your Summer Jam like the Son of Sam |
| And punishin' |
| Dressed in black with a skull on chest |
| And holdin' my nuts exposin my 5-star general |
| That’s spittin flow |
| Unpredictable |
| Ricochetin' |
| The shit gets bullseye |
| We hit 'em, oh! |
| Velcome all vulnerable vocalists |
| Visualize vivid verb play in my vortex |
| Virtually, no verse’ll be vinnin ova me |
| They vapor |
| My verbal voltage vanquishes |
| Parental advisory |
| Vamoose! |
| I’ll vick your vitality |
| Vindictive with voodoo |
| Valiantly save the virgin from the viper |
| Vanglorious vide vorld of volcanic violence |
| Your vessel gets violated over the velm |
| Voracious, vivacious |
| Veto your village voice |
| Void your vibration |
| Vultures got me vergin' on vomitin' they vishfullness |
| Gets met with visciousness |
| Every verb’s visceral |
| This is no kiss under the mistletoe |
| A clip will cripple foes |
| Crucifix for mental cliques |
| Triple 6 flipped now it’s 9 |
| Now it’s time for vertigo |
| Reverberate through your convertible |
| Hard nose in the contest like Ron Artest |
| The con artist |
| Bombard 'em and start 'em in Vanguard shit |
| Get serious… grown from experience, and our shit |
| A lyricist to the tissue… bones and cartilage |
| My fare for the hair raising |
| Razor sharp with rare phrasing |
| Perfectly scripted like Scorcese’s 'Raging Bull' |
| Lanky like Kirilenko |
| Paid in full |
| I skipped grades in school |
| Exhume verb and further with no sherm on the burner |
| Mostly Turkish hash on the purple grass in the sterling |
| Wave your checkered flags, I’m world class in the derby |
| Paragraphs off the flow chart topsy-turvy |
| Every day A represent |
| With a weed habit affecting the trade deficit |
| They ain’t never met nobody like me |
| Til they comin' in from work, see me holdin they wifey |
| In the 80's, I was spoken icy |
| Not from diamonds, but rhymin' and flowin precisely |
| Type of nigga that’ll get ya scolded politely |
| It really wouldn’t show if I was holdin' |
| That’s why no one would fight me |
| Bush bombed Afghanistan with the missiles |
| And it still ain’t puttin' my hash man outta business |
| Hieroglyphics we feelin' stand to the finish |
| Full Circle on you niggas… don't forget the bitches! |
| Wooo… yeah, that’s what I’m talkin about! |
| Y’all did that! |
| Couple y’all kicked ass |
| It’s cool… we out! |