Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Epiphany, artist - Juggaknots. Date of issue: 13.04.2019
Song language: English
Epiphany |
| Behold the fungus among us |
| When dabbling with babbling |
| I sends the battle scene to the apocalypse |
| With this you grab my cock ya lips |
| Be getting sorta puckery |
| Getting the Brewin gassed to save that ass come stop the fuckery |
| My style’ll leave ya posing like a hitch hiker |
| Make me wanna bitch microphone slap that shady ass, you bullshit nigga |
| Your fronting said you didn’t think too hot of me |
| But once you feel the vocal side of me you’ll say, «You got it, G» |
| I finds the virgin ears I’m busting raw pops |
| Ya saving the drops, trying to analyze my DNA, the verbal blueprint |
| Even if you spend eternity you’re baffled, nigga |
| Having not the slightest clue of how I’m swingin |
| Bringing styles and flow that’s nastier than urine |
| See my shit is pure and ghetto embellished demonic funk and all that good shit |
| A bad nigga when it comes to grabbing mics |
| I love all women of the spectrum, fuck around I’m stabbing dykes |
| And as I hurt em I convert em, when it comes to honey dip skits |
| I’m leaving pussies sore as if you just delivered triplets, I flip shit |
| When niggas say the Brewin doesn’t rhyme slick |
| I yokes em in the Heimlich just to get the fucking garbage out ya throat |
| Mentally hardcore |
| There be no guard for defending against the shit I’m sending |
| Once you’re comprehending the ill funk aphrodisiac |
| Giving the hoodies woodies as I’m fucking up the head like brass knuckles |
| giving noogies |
| I be’s the hell fire word reaver |
| Even Ripley can’t believe |
| I pull a stunt as if my name was Colt Seaver |
| AKA The Fall Guy |
| I never score, why? |
| I’m hitting like Mattingly |
| Get your fucking Webster’s dictionary |
| Look under «fat» and you’ll see my profile so smile |
| You’re grinning like the Joker |
| Cause I chose to smoke a mic and let you witness |
| Get this through your thick skull: my shit is deadly |
| I kicks my verse, niggas couldn’t offer competition with a medley of their works |
| I smirks when booty niggas try and grab this |
| Survival of the fittest call me fucking Tony Atlas, at the podium |
| I pours my sodium in open flesh wounds as I mesh tunes with the vocal joint |
| To become the focal point |
| Brothas of funk soon discover I be +deeper+ than that nigga Larry Fishburne’s |
| +cover+ |
| Hover on the L, sorta like a stealth in the night |
| Then I makes the party jump even when it’s full of white men |
| Check it out |
| I represent enlightenment |
| That have you squinting |
| Hinting to rewards of the lord’s charity received with clarity |
| I heave skillaful syllable is the brick I stick in music mortar |
| Making ya think and raisin my floor to architect |
| I comes to spark a tech |
| Mind barrages massages caressed in peace |
| The vocal acupuncture your stress released |
| Like a hymen crack in my rhyming slacking never that |
| Styles mysterious like under LL’s hat |
| The curious become the furious and play the jury |
| Thus I’m found guilty labeling my sound filthy with the gutter in my utter |
| A fat bitch goes, «Me me me» |
| I cut her in pieces kill her sisters daughters and nieces |
| Anything related to such a thought |
| I crush I fought hard representing wicked Juggaknot minds |
| I breaks it down to your English |
| I makes you say, «I'm gooder» |
| Verbs deeper than a hooker strictly boning seven footers |