Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Glorious Instrumental , by - KhrysisRelease date: 31.03.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Glorious Instrumental |
| Sittin inside a room, plotting plans could plot |
| Sickest written rhymes couldn’t fit inside of a tomb |
| Kill it, kicking shit like a fetus inside a womb |
| They tryna gas me up but they couldn’t fuck with the fumes |
| Then let’s cover your face like you MF DOOM |
| See this dark skinned kid from the dark side of the moon |
| Stay on top of this cake like a wax bride and a groom |
| Blowing up like birthday balloons |
| But we never going 'pop!' |
| Stop, this hip hop, nah we rock |
| Better think again thinkin' you better, I think not |
| You wouldn’t have a shot if your hands was holdin' a Glock |
| If your day job was a doctor I’m takin them out the picture |
| Rappers is getting cropped in my square like it’s hop scotch |
| Back like DeLoreans, black rap euphoria |
| Walled up historia |
| The, the, the glorious |
| The, the, the glorious |
| Born in the mid-80's they say, «he so crazy» |
| Like Martin in the 90's or when he went really crazy |
| Meanwhile my style too wild for them to tame me |
| Shoulder cold as the arctic, flow hotter than Hades |
| A barber couldn’t fade me, you hate cause you can’t break me |
| I put your favourite artist in the garbage with Brenda’s baby |
| Watch me take it back on some repo shit |
| If you heard this offer say, you delete your shit |
| Wonder why you can’t hang with me |
| I been lynching, I’m servin' I for mics like I’m pen pimpin' |
| You been slipping I been raising the bar like I been benching |
| You fuckin' with a king like a Martin Luther mistress |
| In the cut, like stitches spitting like a pitcher flow |
| Spillin' like a pitcher filled up with water, get the picture? |
| Back like DeLoreans, black rap euphoria |
| Walled up historia |
| The, the, the glorious |
| Yo, Chi Town round demolisher |
| Might jump on your song wit ya, barely acknowledge ya |
| Hot as a fever I don’t need a thermometer |
| Raw as a pack of Ramen before you pour in the water |
| Sicken they bring us orders, leading pigs to the slaughter |
| Watching that rat burn like I’m in a class with Arthur |
| Swinging through your city sorta like I’m Peter Parker |
| I’m a motherfucker like that man who fucked your granny’s daughter |
| What the plan? |
| man flying like the saucer |
| Versus getting bodied, mind missing like |
| You ain’t in my class, you rappers is playin' hookie |
| My pen puncture the paper, you punks can’t push me |
| Ahead of my time, lines go over heads like hoodies |
| Eat beats like Doug more than Wayne eat pussy |
| Beyond focus I chase ghosts, you ain’t notice? |
| My eyes open, y’all blind dates for Frank Ocean |
| Bitch |