| Check it out
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| Looptroop Rockerz
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| '99. |
| David vs Goliath. |
| Check it out ya ya ya, ha
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| Feel the heartbeat (x4)
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| Feel the adrenaline rush
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| My name P, still the same, word to GP
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| Y’all wanna test me, you must be CP
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| I know that wasn’t PC, politically correct to say
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| Well, neither is calling you gay
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| Hey man, I represent from V to A-dam
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| Any damn day of the week might go spraycan
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| From gas-stations to subway stations
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| Radio-stations, me and Embee on a vacation
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| Travelling Europe in a bus, on a adrenaline rush
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| Why superstars travelling on egotrips, because they must
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| Are you a big tree then I’m a small chainsaw
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| Ready to massacre your ass and let the brains blow
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| With a strange flow, write rhymes 'till I’m feverish
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| Make a beverage of pussy-juice and the blood
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| Of average MC’s, on stage I’m illin'
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| So, after the show lecture girls for sexual healing
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| My microphone is like shower-curtain
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| Reveals the naked truth, call me Promoe Perkins
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| A swedish psycho, travelling business class to Norway, Bergen
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| Setting off fire alarms, microphones I’m burning
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| Fucking shit up like Norwegians in S-train-yards
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| Don’t believe me, check how I bless them bars
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| With the vocal joint, that’ll be the new focal point
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| For the whole hiphop-world, and still I’m just a little boy
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| With a passion for taxin' MC’s 'till them in passion
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| Appoint me the next chief, of finances
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| You better start giving some fine answers
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| We all know you’re guilty, you lying bastard
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| Better dead that, talk out of your head crap
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| Before you hear yourself screaming (oh no) like redrat
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| Small-timers, so called rhymers
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| Stepping on stage got Alzheimers (where am I)
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| This ain’t battle-rhymes, it’s battle cries, ancient warchamps
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| My name ain’t Biggie, you don’t get one more chance
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| Run off your mouth and I’ll run you off the street
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| Promoe rules from the valley of the deep
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| Peace to the valley of death, if you wanna step
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| That’ll be your last step, a promise not a threat
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| Got you nervous, like you on?
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| ?Mailbombs?, man, you need to gain pounds, man
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| You little feather-weight, get it straight, Promoe penetrate
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| Drill a hole in the ground and turn up in the United States
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| Unite with the greats on the way up
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| Stay up like girls dressed in stay-up's, bombing lay-up's
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| Way after bed-time, you get dead rhymes
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| There’ll be no resurrection, for my shit
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| Brovaz go Cocoa like Smif-n-Wessun, no question
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| Mics, spraycans and turntables
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| Bringin the bloodrush like? |
| Martin Able?
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| But more than once a month, got MC’s
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| On the midnight run, through the land of the midnight-sun
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| Sweden, Gotham City to Gothenburg
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| Don’t give a fuck y’all, I’m from the city of a suburb
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| P R O to the M O E
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| Messing with me and you end up a memory
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| R.I.P mural in the rural area
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| Jag heter M: rten, kommer fr: n Sverige
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| Represent wackness, like Sizzla represents slackness
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| Question mark check-holders and blackness
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| Then when you’re done licking the balls of Mad Skillz
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| And Slick Rick take a suck on my big dick
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| Cause all I see is crews that bite, wack rhymes and wack mics
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| Men are like rappers when they’re over hyped
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| Over-night-sensations: Promoe’s your replacement
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| I just to get down with my crew in the basement
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| Now I get the place bent like some
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| Einstein from the pavement, you sit back in amazement
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| I write graffiti like some caveman
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| To the future of two-thousand, signing out five-thousand |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Adrenaline Rush, artist - Looptroop Rockers. Album song Modern Day City Symphony, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп