Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song China Shop Taurus, artist - Jehst. Date of issue: 09.04.2011
Song language: English
China Shop Taurus |
| The sun sets over cityscape silhouettes |
| Bright lights flicker cigarette smoke pirouettes |
| It’s the addictive kiss of death in effect |
| I’m a little stressed spittin' liquor breath introspect |
| Hot like triple X, getting lost in the mixing decks |
| Sweat glistens like glitter balls reflect |
| Recollect on the dreamscape |
| Escape the freebase infested Police state |
| Teenage protesters riot in the heat wave |
| Fire in the streets place bets on the sweepstake |
| Check how the greed shapes their mind sets |
| The beast clockin' like Timex flexing their biceps |
| There’s nothing out here for us |
| Negative forces force us to live lawless and spit rawness |
| I’m like a china shop Taurus |
| I talk of torment and pen chorus after chorus |
| BNP berserkers bent on murders |
| Teens tagging for a sense of purpose |
| Streets is tense and nervous |
| So bait is bound to tempt the serpent’s |
| Appetite, parasite paradise |
| Po-lice patronise, lappin' up a pack of lies |
| Macho guys turn hermaphrodite by candlelight |
| Still they wanna scandalise mine cos' I spit rhyme |
| I’m tryin' to scrape the paper and escape quick time |
| Get yours, utilise your get out clause |
| Outlaws on course for the great outdoors |
| I’m way out like Cheech Wizard |
| Keeping warm in the winter blizzard |
| Banging my head like Lynard Skynard |
| I’m having nightmares I’m naked in my ground floor flat |
| Gripping a baseball bat |
| With the back door open to night-time predators |
| Crack-heads highlight heaven gone wrong |
| Watching back street revellers |
| Revelation of the Devil’s messed up messengers |
| Sin is effortless, yet affecting us |
| In fact infecting us with disease |
| Beast inspecting expecting us to mess up, muck up |
| Leave you bruck up, you’ll get beaten the fuck up |
| And cuffed some even got snuffed |
| Others live on to puff another bag and brag |
| How they’re mad tough, man I’ve had enough |
| There’s nothing out here for none of us |
| There’s nothing out here for us |
| Negative forces force us to live lawless and spit rawness |
| I’m like a china shop Taurus |
| I talk of torment and pen chorus after chorus |
| Post-modernist, pre-apocalypse |
| Living in this rotten metropolis |
| Existing with broken hopes hearts and promises |
| Park bench politics, soap-box soap bar |
| Smokers acknowledge this novelist |
| The broke pocket economist on a mission |
| Fists clenched for the opposition |
| Sitting tight like Taliban in Tora Bora |
| The last stand now we’re living land of the lost |
| And the age of Sodom and Gomorra |
| Divide and conquer your block by the border |
| Locked by the law and order |
| The war reporter walks streets |
| As the cycle of suicidal thoughts repeats |
| In the minds of the poor and meek |
| A meat market of morbid freaks |
| Freebase heads speak to inform the beats |
| The bleak picture, the cycle of war and peace is crazy vulgar |
| Sick as the kids that killed Damilola Taylor and Jamie Bulger |
| My heart broken open and beating slower |
| The cold blooded grow even colder |
| In a globe so rotten like teeth in Cola |
| No hope of mending, a culture of violent endings pending |
| Our pens become government scapegoats |
| But no guns bust at my stage shows |
| (So yo it’s like…) |
| There’s nothing out here for us |
| Negative forces force us to live lawless and spit rawness |
| I’m like a china shop Taurus |
| I talk of torment and pen chorus after chorus |
| After chorus |
| After chorus |