Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song G.U.O.M.D. , by - Hieroglyphics. Release date: 31.12.2001
Song language: English
G.U.O.M.D. |
| Yeah, downhill, the cobwebs and the spiders |
| You know what I’m saying |
| (oh please oh please) Mega Blast Mega Blast Mega blast |
| Someone called me a veteran, terrestrial I’m extra |
| In my temple, resemble, nothing that you’ve seen before |
| I see suckaz stretching, what the fuck you preaching for? |
| Eyes like a eagle, or a hawk when I’m peeking your |
| Skid bitch talk, might get him shot, outlined in chalk |
| Diamonds in a pint box, I’m not the executioner like Roc Raida |
| But cutting on the fader, suckaz bussing at their neighbour |
| I wish we had a saviour, but that sounds like cowardness |
| The power is in all of us, that’s why they distorting us |
| I keep a heater in my sleeping quarters like my grandpa does |
| If I hear a tweak crack, I cock shit back, I live in paranoia, plus I smoke |
| Marihuana, and that makes it worse, when I get to put it in my verse |
| If it sounds like I’m stressing, then you’re quite perceptive |
| You’ll never evaporate my essence |
| Fuck an accolade from a punk magazine |
| They’re all fags and queens |
| Grab machines and start shooting up (prrrrrrrrrrrt) |
| Who’s paper stands like bad dreams? |
| I rock baggy jeans, white T’s and white tennis shoes |
| I hate doing interviews! |
| Let my record speak, impeccable technique, break bread |
| Get some head from some rich rapper’s freak |
| That’s an everyday occurrence, while you looking like a tourist |
| You get jacked in LA, ante up in Brownsville |
| The town’s still looking for ya, to put 'em on ya |
| Bury you like an Arian in Soprani (?) |
| Carrying big shit, clips bananny |
| Vigilante, you ain’t fit to catch me |
| Oh please, oh please, oh please |
| Just get up off my dick ! |
| (3x) |
| Catch a Mega blast, Mega blast, Mega blast |
| Oh please, oh please, oh please |
| Just get up off my dick (3x) |
| Catch a mega blast, mega blast, mega blast |
| Del Diablo, follow my footprints |
| Just like the Yeti, bet you’ll get a whooping |
| Bad, a skeleton, frame, I’m telling you |
| Aim, you better have |
| Claimed your epitaph |
| Lay down, niggas parade around |
| Centre stage, the crowd of what |
| A mile, pal, hear, you better and here |
| Register fear, I thought you said you wasn’t scared |
| Yeah, rappers in their boots trembling |
| Loose and feminine, hanging with the wrong crowd |
| Here’s a noose to fit em in, talking like a officer |
| Nigga you’se a gentlemen, you dead if you been disrespecting the crew’s |
| Emblem, scoop diffidence until I got loot like Eminem or Timbaland |
| Keep looking like Snoop was living in, jealous corny rapping fools get schooled |
| I’m hearing them, they’re minimum, hieroglyphics here they come |
| You catch a mega blast |
| Yeah, this is how we moving baby, an original plan |
| Manipulate the sounds, with invisible hands, psycho terrorism |
| Propaganda, mind control, now come 'on throw your hands up |
| My rap gets on his haunches, we in the meat market |
| Sharking, perfecting cuts is the starches |
| Most determined, burning, burning |
| Don’t nobody wanna see these thangs, man |
| We bang, 'til ya CD changed, my take off be |
| Straight up, just like an off spree, like beans |
| My offspring, thought up the mic feenz, dissolving |
| In strike teams, collateral damage is costly |
| My method of madness is that of a savage machine like |
| Automatic, if it seems like you want the static |
| I let em have it, and rap it in fact, you get a havoc rapping attack |
| Body and soul left attached, and from there there is no turning back, nigga |
| — repeat to end |