Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Something in the Air , by - Jon MurdockRelease date: 03.11.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Something in the Air |
| In the air |
| There’s something in the air |
| Clinton, Obama, Osama Bin Laden |
| Spitting flow hotter, blow ganja, been rhymin' |
| Sipping Goldschlägers, show stopper, Benz drivin' |
| But whipping no Mazda, blow llamas, men firin' |
| The wolf in sheep’s clothing, deceiving the herd |
| 'Bout to sneak a strike on you while I’m breathing the herb |
| Peep and observe, pull the chief to the curb and see what occurs |
| As I Hamburger Hill all your people with words |
| The heat will emerge like Jason Voorhees at the Lake Camp Crystal |
| Blazing four Swedes, now you can’t play cripple |
| Sing in short sleeves, all MCs blaze pistols |
| I came with four cheese and raw beats, got paid triple |
| It’s simple, beat rocker, heat cocker, meat hopper |
| Mi casa, su casa, mood stopper, who shot ya? |
| The crew proper so fuck a repair |
| If the cypher’s going on, put (something in the air) |
| I make your mental experimental |
| Watch the minister climb up |
| Filling in the atmosphere like Canibus |
| (Matter of fact, lay him flat on his back, yeah, that) |
| I make your mental experimental |
| Check my credentials, with pen and pencils |
| (Fuck all that, clack, clack) |
| (Lay him flat on his back, yeah, that) |
| Something in the air like we burning the piff |
| Bob Marley, Cheech & Chong, me hardly twirling a spliff |
| Copy carbon, I be hauling ass working with this |
| Flick of the hand, turn of the wrist, you burnt to a crisp |
| Reverse fusion flux eruption, blast furnace |
| Loose screws, nuts, you fucked, we blast burners |
| Burn slow, runners and gunners, the fast blunters |
| The truth like will turn ya to Nat Turners |
| Or Ike B and Tina, catch a case, misdemeanor |
| That’s 'cause she ain’t take my fucking suit to the cleaners |
| A super hero, super villain, I’m super illin' |
| The certified super in the buildin', the landlord |
| Lex Star scream mean when he transform |
| Crank like Jason Statham when he transport |
| Stand strong, a solid rock worker |
| Planet rock, gravity stop, clocks inertia |
| Time dilation, rhyme by the 'Dation |
| Found by the now riverside, lying naked |
| Wrapped in the pages of unique fabrics |
| A true beat savage, my crew speaks madness |
| Tongues of a lost text, long forgotten dialect |
| No man’s land where these MCs try to step |
| SOS, but he lost his flare |
| Caught by the Dutchmen, put (something in the air) |
| Foul weather |
| I make your mental experimental |
| Watch the minister climb up |
| Filling in the atmosphere like Canibus |
| (Matter of fact, lay him flat on his back, yeah, that) |
| I make your mental experimental |
| Check my credentials, with pen and pencils |
| (Fuck all that, clack, clack) |
| (Lay him flat on his back, yeah, that) |
| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman |
| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman |
| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman |
| Death grinning like a scarecrow, Flying Dutchman |