Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 4 Da Mind ft The Cella Dwellas, artist - Masta Ace Incorporated. Album song Sittin' On Chrome, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Bicycle Music Company
Song language: English
4 Da Mind ft The Cella Dwellas |
Its the ill scripts |
And the Hieroglyphics |
Plus the scientifics… for the mind x2 |
Verse 1: Masta Ace? |
Hey yo, hey yo |
Open up your eyes and tell me what you see |
Ease on down the road with me |
I hold the key to the doors of your brain |
And mental pain was showered down like the rain |
From the sky, I wondered, «why did I fly |
To a land that was covered by sand?» |
And when you popped the shoes off my feet |
I walked through blistering heat and didn’t eat |
For forty days until I came to a door |
At the bottom of a mountain by the shore |
My word is bond |
I walked in with no fear |
And I could hear a fat track in the rear |
So I slid to the source of the sound |
And what I found, was mad tapes all around |
And Kangol hats and suede pumas by the pair |
Then in walks this tall man with waves in his hair |
He didn’t speak |
He walked over to his chair took a seat |
And then that stopped the beat |
«What's goin' on?» |
I say |
Wonderin' and wonderin', «should I stay?» |
With no delay he picked up his crooked click |
And the thick book he reached out to me and I took it quick |
That’s what he told me to do |
I took it home and then I read it with my crew |
Okay I think that it’s time we begin |
A (of) dreamin' we’ll benefit from the chapters found within |
Its the ill scripts |
And the Hieroglyphics |
Plus the scientifics… for the mind x3 |
Verse 2: UG (of Cella Dwellas |
Chapter 1 |
I rip out your spine and play the piccolo with your vertebrae |
I bet this hurted way different tunes I play |
Tunes they open, I’m hopin', keep the rises |
My eyes is irritated with livid pictures |
Reality fades away |
I hear chinks are like the town chariot to all the gangs |
Even grapes my dagger’s ready for war sharpening edges |
For incisions limit decisions |
Like bendin' prisms color form watch the rainbows |
Terrific and has mad flavors like skittles |
Slide into a pot of gold as I unfold a thought |
'I kill human beings for sport' |
Chapter 2 |
I flex skills that are nasty like porn |
Bound to getcha' fucked up as they get ripped, torn |
Out the frame bringin' pain to ya membrane |
And drain ya veins 'til no blood remains |
Mystic brain thoughts like a gypsy |
Sippin' on cognac, feelin' kinda tipsy |
It’s the mic destroya |
Jack’s bean stalk got jacked by Goya |
Oh boy ya here we go again |
In the Philippines they be eatin' man’s best friend |
Gimme 5 to 10 county jail or state pen |
But the styles I be killin' off and on like trends |
Its the ill scripts |
And the Hieroglyphics |
Plus the scientifics… for the mind x3 |
Chapter 3 |
Hocusin' Pocusin' |
I use my third eye to focus in |
On your crucifixion an' a psychic like Jeane Dixon pop-predictionin' |
Niggas better flee cuz its realm three |
I have a different personality |
So run go tell your friends, its the dwella from the cella |
An pop a cap of swellegant and you’ll be free |
Mr. ??? |
(lady voice) |
Like Andy Panda I’m from the luster land |
The Necromancer, the Indian Rain Dancer |
Underground its the killer clown |
The dopah tokah cuz I’ll choke ya then I’ll smoke ya |
Lord Digga is the big black spade in the grave and little son of Satan |
Master is the ace man that hooks up the beats with bass |
Mix between norm and the jinx |
And I’m the deuce in ya hand, the talk of the mass |
The thrilla, I eat fruit loops the cereal killa |
The four man dream team wreckin' all evenin' odds |
The deadly deck of cards dealer of the gods |
The extra terrifical lyrical spiritual scientifical |
Hypnotical and mystical intellectual poetry |
Made for da mind destroyin' mankind |