Lyrics Hits The Head - MC Serch

Hits The Head

Parties all around start checkin for the substance
The context you suspect, but I expect
When Serchlite hits the break.
.
headache, BREAK FOOL
With the groove that’s strictly metropolitan
Past go, I’ll let you go again the pen emulates
What’s heard from the four wheel
And Babyface ain’t never seen this crazy whip appeal
Sealed with the hits and blow cause I got hits to go
Fists to flow Michel’le Michelle-low under the mistletoe
I let my missle go, yo
Hands get pound, when it comes down to slick rhymes
No respect in the deuce cool I’m vickin mines
Burnished in New York kids that rolled diesel
Kids swoll big like they were shootin up an AIDS needle
So cling to your mom’s mammaries, calamity’s a remedy
To recollect childhood memory lane
Envision, the picture, the frame
The beat that rumbles into the brain
Stains grim gloom carefree feelin, up a buildin cap peelin
Slash from the unwillin blastin off, passin off
To the prevention, locked in detention
Wielding fiends, your dome starts STRETCHIN
To hit the hot spot, and stomp hysterical
The groove that makes you thank God for miracles
Pinnacles are peakin there you find Serch.
.
hittin heads until the head hurts
Migraine, motherfuckin migraine
Migraine, motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine
Rhythm rung gets designed for the kind
That’s the deaf the dumb and blind seen here and stated with that
And if you’re not gonna hit that, let me rip that
Rhythm hit the rhymes, we give 'em, we leave 'em
Then we’ll ghost to the most so the concrete is secured
To endure, three-hundred and sixty-five days of the unsure
Is the way the crumb comes clompin
That’s why these boots were made for stompin
Comp is little to none, when the riddle is sung
When who is rappin no beats gets paid
The answer as he gets sprayed by the kids who survived
The playground, of the steel
Who used a fat and funky, as a sort of shiv
Deal to the crew that rolls in batallions
If water was slaughter I’d have to order by the gallon
Pestacides killed the pests, the rest are out the back
Like sweats so jump out the projects, out the building
Out your condo, out your crib, out your co-op!
And let me rip the hip-hop again
Oh shit, Skeff Anslem, he gets props again
Let out the grunt, let out the funk, from out your trunk
Feel the bass and let it PUMP PUMP PUMP
Migraine, motherfuckin migraine
Migraine, motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine, migraine
Motherfuckin migraine
I ain’t got no DJ, but that’s alright
I ain’t got no dancers, but that’s alright
I ain’t got no choir, but that’s alll-riiiiight
All I got left is the mic.
.
SO STRIKE UP THE BAND MAN, as I command man
Float up the damn damn, wash away the flim-flam
Knick-knack quick wack paddywack, give a dog a stick
Then hop off my dialect quick
To the throat I choke, I I need a Coke
Cause I got somethin in my throat.
AHHA-AHEM!
Better?
Let no one get no one up gassed here
On the throttle catch a back of a forty bottle
Models can’t roll put a toll into the parkin meter
Crowds around two kids in a four seater
Pack attack crunch from the boom
To give a brother ROOM, TO BREATHE, LEAVE
And pull the card our your sleeve, you’re free to roam
As the beat hits the head until you gets home
Migraine, migraine motherfuckin migraine
Migraine motherfuckin migraine
Migraine motherfuckin migraine
Motherfuckin migraine migraine!
Motherfuckin migraine migraine!
Migraine motherfuckin migraine migraine!
MIGRAINE?
MOTHERFUCKIN MIGRAINE MIGRAINE?!
MIGRAINE!
MOTHERFUCKIN MIGRAINE!!!