Lyrics Contact - Nick Wiz

Contact

Cascade from the Sun as the venomous flavor lay strung
Straight from the lung to a razorblade tongue (Yo, that was real)
But, shit, it should have been a century back.
Those who are
Mentally strapped now will eventually snap (True)
Snakes rise from baskets—you can check it, explore it, pass it
But do not ignore the facet I’m def-er than boric acid
When it infiltrates, your temple shakes, leaving
Memories distorted, though no injuries reported
You know the ill schems of high beams and guillotines
On the for ral, I hear the screams from the Philippines
Rupture your dental when professional perspective flip
It’s fundamental, yo, that questional selective shit
Now what you facing?
Complications get emotional
No time for wasting, conversation nonnegotiable
Doubters and provers know antagonist can snatch the profit
Counter-maneuvers could be hazardous and catastrophic
Those who are used to this say Kaos can prevail daily
Suppose a crucifix can help you if you Hail Mary
Putting my genocide/gin aside, you know I get melodic, right?
The unidentified, phenomal, Kaotic type
When I communicate, I cover like a sewer plate
See me and Hawk me like Seattle when I ‘lluminate
Check your division.
Intuition brings precision, but
My mysticisms, yo, can fuck your whole religion up
For those who might incline, you’re tipsy, but believe me, lord
No calling psychic lines or gypsies moving Ouija boards
It’s just an entity that tags on you mentally
Contact!
Draw the flag, take the penalty
when speaking on the topic of being
Intoxicated (by verbal narcotic)
when we drop gems you can feel
(From your melon to your Timbs on the real)
While others are prisoners to sonic incarceration
I transcend through amplitude of frequency modulations
My rhymes inflict something wicked when they spray, brain
Decay got me flipping, drowning rigid in the bay.
I lay
Every line like borough cement, causing a microphone
To tilt, creating empires like the Romans built
My scripture’s lifted.
I roll it up and make a spliff, inhale
My verbal gift prevails, rating tens on every Richter scale
This shit is drama, no part of it is comedy
I gotta get away, hit you riding on the chronic leaf
And atom-bomb a beat, releasing mega potent stimulants
Mad adrenaline in circles, see?
Now you’re vertical
With no thanks to Mountain Dew, I’m spitting shanks when bouncing through
A track, the impact is like you smoked an ounce or two
I’m in your headphones, my verse is bound to blow your bubble off
But the high boomerangs, I catch you slow with double force
I’m high octane, I clot brains and veins, the pain
Remains, you’re lame, game niggas can’t maintain
They’re quick to vanish, they didn’t manage to discover I’m
Inflicting damage, leaving niggas Shrinking like I’m Rick Moranis
My method’s on the D.L., I keep it top-secret
Plans of overthrowing me?
(Enlist the bitch in shock treatment)
The long-term goal is to construct a sick trend
Transmit my flow within, make you rupture BIC pens
Even plot in shackles, I’ll leave ‘em hole-y/holy like tabernacles
With shattered Snapples in their Adam’s apples when bladders travel
Making punks bleed.
Triple the strength of skunk
Weed when I bomb tracks—catch the contact
when speaking on the topic of being
Intoxicated (by verbal narcotic)
when we drop gems you can feel
(From your melon to your Timbs on the real)