Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Verbal Experiments, artist - Lootpack. Album song Soundpieces: Da Antidote, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.04.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stones Throw
Song language: English
Verbal Experiments |
Intro: madlib |
Hah hahahah… |
From the dungeons of darkness |
Comes gods gift to hip hop |
Representin with the lp Well hit em hard and fast in a straight line |
Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise |
Operation sunray, uv radiation |
First breach their outer barriers then continue penetration |
To their central point, crushin their nucleus |
Rushing their central brain command |
Planting a virus that expands |
Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications |
To your ya bodily functions handicapping your defenses |
Swiftly attacking your unit, neutralizing mcs |
By ripping em apart before they even know what hit em Style blitz |
Jack gets pissed off, wack mcs step up and get lost |
The rhythmic boss, jack spits rhymes through my teeth like floss |
I bust with motivation to uplift mcs with |
High above controlling stratus clouds, my man gods gift |
Come down, assist us, wack mcs must be reminded |
Get a lootpack tape, rewind it, for those closed minded |
To the abstract we kick, we rock all places |
I found out mcs arent human cuz they got two faces |
They be chillin, willin, always time killin |
Wack rumor spillin while jack be still in charge |
Asking me if I smoke chronic, niggas its ironic |
Im wild child, 80% human, 20% bionic |
My main occupation is to step up and rock the nation |
Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation |
So if you aint down, dont front, worry about your health |
Worry about your wack crew and ya wack ass self |
Hey yo, here comes the master don, here to renovate |
My style hits ya like marble weights so pass the dinner plate |
But pass up the swine like money ya rhyme lime |
Madlib done told ya time and time again |
Find the mental maze, faster ya plaster your instrumental |
With lyrical disaster till you scream out «whos the master? |
«I flip it up rip it up to raw addict, |
Crate diggin for the static when I mad beat shop |
Impulse down to prestige and black jazz |
21st century enja got mad |
Record labels of the old, ill loop and take em out |
I keep it secret when a nigga tries to peep shit |
My beat hit like a roy jones jr. |
skit |
Your girl starin so now you wanna flip |
I rip it down to the loot while ya yell peace |
While I pull out my piece, yell peace but now leave ya in pieces |
But at least you escaped this beast |
Smokin on a cushin leaf while ya try to bring grief |
Now somethings shaking in the palace, cant you feel the santa ana |
Switching currents and building velocity, it gots to be Gods gift and lootpack, mentally superior master race of lyricists |
Conductiong verbal experiments |
With open and imaginitive creativity |
Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically |
Complete, grown and fully developed adults |
Trained in mastering total blitz coastal, total assaults |
Also we launch all out war when we tour your area |
First destroying your local underground spots |
Rocked your major clubs and plugged into your theatres |
Advancing as hip hops vocabulary leaders |
Hostile take-overs is our main focus |
As the deadliest of cdp special attack forces |
Basically, mcs lack division is appalling |
Third rate styles with the nerve to say theyre vocalists |
Out of focus, often its the people they run with |
Coupled with their own wackness, theyre futureless! |
«and keep feedin you, and feedin you…" — method man by wu-tang clan |