Lyrics Still Slippin - Illinformed, BVA

Still Slippin

Still slippin', still kippin', looking thin as fuck
Still desecrating rhythms, sat here skinning up
Ill visions, Illinformed sent to wake him up
Feel the beat, kill the sheep and it starts with
What planet am I living on?
Cabin fever
Had to resuscitate him for a little song
Self admitted to the psycho ward flat 1
Think he’s finding it hard to walk but his raps run
Time for action, watch Bronson, now we’re ready
Paranoia will destroy ya but sometimes it’s nice just feeling edgy
Swoop like Eddie, tell the kids to keep the moolah steady
I bought from Kenny but saved him in my phone as Jenny
Living life like a rodent, coming out at night to forage for scraps of potent
shit to be smoking
No shit promoting, smoke a blunt that’s highly dipped and soaked in oil
No foil but look like I’m on opium
I leap from the opening
Bottle the extract, hit it raw then feel to do the scratch like a Vestax
Peace (??) Best DJ in the south, best respect that
One set deep and best believe that my head’s fat
Still slippin', still kippin', looking thin as fuck
Still desecrating rhythms, sat here skinning up
Ill visions, Illinformed sent to wake him up
Feel the beat, kill the sheep and it starts with
Still getting the bus feeling semi concussed
Slip inside my mind reeling off the heavenly dutch
Things will happen that will send you spiralled into the clutch
Of the dark forces that will squeeze 'til everything you see’s fucked
Slipping off the edge, man he’s off the head
Strange look in my eyes, sat here rocking on the ledge
Snap out and the picture you see is beautiful
And walk the street feeling like the world has found a use for you
Just get caught in avalanches, reaching for the branches
Heading for the city of Atlantis
Lost and found, what are the chances?
Rolling in with the dogs brother, but you still get your hand bit
Always been slippin', haters been sittin' in the shade steady sippin'
Throwing little digs in, now they spit contradictions
Never know who was real from the start of the fiction
Just do your best to pick 'em
Still slippin', still kippin', looking thin as fuck
Still desecrating rhythms, sat here skinning up
Ill visions, Illinformed sent to wake him up
Feel the beat, kill the sheep and it starts with