Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bottle Rocket, artist - Everlast. Date of issue: 04.10.1999
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Bottle Rocket |
| Yo the rhyme excursions touch minds like brain surgeons |
| Feel the lyric teargas — even on clean versions |
| No profanit goddamnit hard like granite to the utmost |
| I’m butter on rye — always high but play the low post |
| I stretch to go the distance yo my lungs are mad elastic |
| I’m dope on plastic like Flex I always keep it classic |
| Expressions in the facial I’m on Rachel from caribbean rhythms |
| I hit 'em with a battered flow padded with circles added twice |
| I’m nice on ice the line slice your dome |
| And separate rhymes from poems |
| My life… |
| Ain’t tryin to see no grammy or oscar |
| Best believe these styles will rub off like pastas |
| On people yo check Dilated Evidence |
| The influential rock rhymes in sequential format |
| You’ll see the doormat if you acting disaccordingly |
| Something to the effect of Fatboys in Disorderlies |
| I’ll take you from He-Man to She-Ra |
| Battle Cat to Cringer |
| Medieval Messenger, west coast avenger |
| Take it to the street battle me? |
| That’s a fucking sin |
| Go one round with Mad Child you’ll be sucking wind |
| Snapping handcuffs just for de-concentration |
| Then I broke out the bus — a mental hospital patient |
| On a weekend pass but I still come sick |
| Psychopathic you’re dealing with a deranged lunatic |
| Soon to kick your teeth in, and then go berserk |
| Even Van Gogh looked at me and said you’re one piece of work |
| So I said lend me an ear, cause I’m the state of the art |
| First I’ll feast on your brain, then rip your body apart |
| There’s a part of your heart stuck in between my fangs |
| Wrap a rope around your neck, and you still couldn’t hang |
| Cause you’re way off track, you need realignment |
| Murdering masterpieces in solitary confinement |
| I’ll keep your backside open like the english channel |
| I rock the sure shot, I keep it hot like flannel |
| I’ll survey your panel with my foot up in your anal |
| You think it can’t happen? |
| Kid, cause I’m rappin'? |
| Ain’t no gun clappin' cut the jaw jackin' |
| Let the joints get shot and see where it’s not |
| Then kick off your shoes jump off my jock |
| And check the new style Whitey Ford’s prone to rock |
| Once upon a time, not long ago |
| Before Hip Hop was made for the radio |
| An MC show had to co-rock the masses |
| Used to wear a kangol with the clear gazelle glasses |
| So bang bang boogie up jump the party |
| Someone clapped off and scattered everybody |
| Drunk off bacardi, high off the trauma |
| It’s death from above the livest dive bomber |
| In the squadron I break formation |
| I get New York love like my name’s Ken Son |
| ??At tea? |
| they rock bells till they break the dawn |
| Steady puffin owl’s and fight hell like spawn |
| My moves are animated my crew’s reinstated |
| While you cats suspension’s up in my dimensions |
| We can ease tensions or we can get rowdy |
| So I’mma keep it on the love and do my duty/doody like howdy |
| Direction short term plan regionalize rhyme boards |
| With the hordes — I’m satan dynasty killer |
| Refill the chords with the sling on down |
| Venom spit regurgitate def scripts I sound |
| Cylinder never python, prevail Mad Child |
| Physical justic can’t rush this for now |
| Move fake of the game time set backs don’t sweat that |
| God don’t test that — too much infinite to get at |
| Space to fills all the members got the illa drills |
| And if you with the rhyme skill |
| Bust the revealings of my feelings of these dealings |
| Will the represent shall |
| I build three phases of death |
| The illusion is to sweat that you reflect |
| When you feel the veil |
| Divine Styles circumnavigate nine circles of hell |
| You keep on you don’t stop cause a nigga never stay stale |
| WudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWhat I’m saying is is that… |
| You ain’t you ain’t ready for that shit (echoes) |