Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Souls From The Streets (1994), artist - Jedi Mind Tricks. Album song The Psycho-social, Chemical, Biological, And Electro-magnetic Manipulation Of Human Consiousness, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.05.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Souls From The Streets (1994) |
Like acid rain showers, nations, you can’t face them |
Erase them or I praise them, as my mind excites the wind |
Like spirits of ill concensions, time will clash |
On ya cipher, lyric concealed behind whirlwind fire |
Or flood, draw blood from wack souls as I smack hoes |
Live concensive, or yes 'em, it’s damage |
That my sintex causes, is irrepreble |
Cuz vanity of my insanity force ya whole click to be divided |
You have just bear witnessed to dub side united |
Who do you love? |
Bugs, styles and fresh |
And numb somes of soul, witchcraft |
The clutch is the archer’s mode, and sure plot |
Of device, we shot twice, after the same arrow |
Rush through life, it’s off this slug |
Advise me with words from death, and new com battles |
Far time left, and pure shot plug that way |
You marathron, let me down to grace the plate |
Full stagnant, touch I, but revamp the squad |
Gettin' loops, saviate on contact |
The triflyn four fists, sparks another spliff |
Bodies left stiff, you can’t fuck with my ruggedness |
My gunshots is leaving niggas on they asses |
Smoking all the canibus, like the weed savage |
Rip dimensions and it matters, take an L |
You no challenge, I blow up, ya muthafuckin' brain cells |
And leave you legal, the slang tongue spigel |
Cocks back the fifth, teflon starts to seek it |
Criminals on a move, set a threat |
Sip the moet, and let off the twin techs to ya |
Muthafuckin' chest |
I speak double-double, cause double trouble never do I rumble |
On a rule, my microphone sever clones |
It’s beyond binocalurs, sence the moody, six chromosomes |
I’m no more less, no need to flex the evil, trip with the clip |
I got the 6−1-0 flow, and 0 and 2 is my zip |
Yo, so call me out in Philly when you down to flip |
No frill skills, or freestylin' when y’all wildin' |
I broke cats all the way live, on Velly’s Long Island |
I visualize cream, tech’s scrap with infered beams |
Stash keys, and tease, lickin' back so y’all can |
My click of criminals, flippin' confortable |
My pockets full of benjamins, fool surrending |
When I’m blendin' in, dub side invincible |
Imperial, for lyrical tactics |
I react with signs to get ya ass kicked |
Indeed the face of evil, is the face told by me |
So I proceed to bleed my people, niggas say I’m too cerebral |
Lies, dub side, flippin' perfection through your section |
Sanity’s slippin', whose the next victim to catch a bless |
Set a threat, I rip the mic and run race like an auto practice |
I inflect this verse leavin' heads in they casket |
Watch this nappy headed villain, brutal torture is illegal |
I back down clowns with a four pound, as I defeat you |
Insert the lyrical slugs, that straight’s very |
A nickel plated verse I spit like a hollow tip steady |
Constantly, drop ya wack back with fire weapon |
This adolescent, keeps a clip full for street protection |
Ain’t nothing complex about the way I cock my biscuit |
I set and threat it, bust that tech son, it’s not explicit |
Exquisite, in divine rhymes I drop like jewels |
The mic I abuse when I choose to break fool |
With this course, I force many emcees out the galaxy |
Challenge me, I rip apart flows with analogy |
Now with me, got that establish and wrap ya cabbage with styles |
You can’t manage to damage or even fathom the mental capacity |
Cuz I harass these wack emcee’s, in degrees |
I splatter universe, and mountain casaulties |
In the dark, my squad sells, blowin' ya conscience |
My assumptions, ethotical, unstoppable, anthological |
I pull the trigger with mystical, my poetic |
Rip fanatics up, and rich with the sinical |
Coming back from the city of Atlantic, it’s the hispanic |
Causing mad panic, with fat static for ya addict |
Automatic, I stick shift quick if you test me |
Left the ciphers, layin' lifers, seen in one spot and attended |
That you get ya crews bruised in black and blues |
Put ya name and age on the front page, of the newspaper |
I drape my hood up on my carriage, damage faggots |
Quit the habits, feedin' on emcee’s on maggots |
Inspect ya gadgets, my style switches cause I flick it |
Return the mic, fixin' stitches, cause I ripped it |
I can’t stand like a maniac depressin' |
That’s been submerged in subterrarian eutopia |
Why’s the mansion that I’m representin' |
Is the feel competitin' in suburbs |
Which has regenerated the etaric |
That kicks the subterric poetry on this plain of obscurity |
One element, top lyricist |
Intellectin' with, d-u-b squad of imperialist |
With an innevator as the dictator |
So we can see you, liver clues with side and system views |
Heads emulate but can’t duplicate, cause this side |
Can’t be tugged, yo, one love |