Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Word...Life, artist - O.C.. Album song Word...Life, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 17.10.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wild Pitch
Song language: English
Word...Life |
| Let the chyme be a party of mine |
| Let the rhyme enter twine like a vine |
| Work your mentally found intellect |
| I raise eyes like the sight of a tec |
| Lets take a trip inside of my thoughts |
| Will I persevere on the mic like sports? |
| Take me in stride, O.C.'s worth listening |
| Watch the tricks of a hoe who is a fixin |
| Tender eyes, they only leadin’to a hard-on |
| Touchin’tongue stick, two to be a part on I max relax smooth it out like a sax |
| One of my goals is to make fat stacks |
| Then I, flip the money to astound this your business |
| This year beat, you see, I already quist it I gave it a test for the rhyme lynguistics |
| Honey wanna kiss, gotta remove the lipstick |
| I dig lips with, mad jewel juices |
| Soft and lickable, nah, rough and ruthless |
| Because of many people I think denied |
| Gas in my tank takin’me for a ride |
| But I’m alright now, smooth as the turn pipe |
| Cause a mind, spot, organize and search life |
| Meditate, daily I do, so why sort |
| Things I consider in my mind is deep thought |
| Word… Life |
| Word… Life |
| Word… Life |
| Word… Life |
| By the way, do me a favor |
| Give it a chance, if a nigga has flavor |
| Years surpass now trained and it’s over |
| I’m bein’intoxicated, now I’m kinda sober |
| Persons serve for purpose like workers |
| If this clowns is makin’Hip Hop a circus |
| Me and my architect, mark my sweat |
| Bring up the engine, better yet a Corvette |
| Thoughts I search 'em like a sub’s emergin' |
| Some subjects never been touched like a virgin |
| Urgin’MC’s, do way of my 'raft |
| I’m destroyin’all things to go through my path |
| It doesn’t matter the sex type |
| O to C now, niggaz gettin’done by the? |
| in freestyle |
| Rhythms are constantly switchin’and changin' |
| Name is O.C., I wrote and arranged this |
| Fluctuation I add it like seized it Before it was missed |
| Now more than a breeze and |
| Poetically astoundin', round and soundin' |
| My brain was paused to a beat, boomin’and bouncin' |
| Edo waves kickin’with the kicks asided |
| You must go inside and exhail, divide it Crushin’competition, dustin’oppostions |
| Down the toilet on a flushing composition |
| Describes a week, and for I can speak |
| Myself against the man, with the true mystique I got |
| So many ways to flip phrases, flip thoughts |
| Passin’licks over the head of my foes |
| Fits I’m givin''em it’s a living |
| If I don’t wanna take a ride with ya Then I can’t be driven |
| Bound for town with a raw sound |
| Seemin’to be lackin’lust in front, my line of MC’s |
| Skits get done by the misfit |
| Doin’gimmicky shit, followin’the leader from a trend hit |
| O.C. |
| got it goin’so like a sweater |
| Better believe it, that I get it busy to the letter |
| Pure and thick, that’s so premature ejaculated |
| And if you had a girl you wouldn’t be masturbatin' |
| Masceradin’your personafication as a lyrical law |
| When you just not fascinatin' |
| Nigga, you need to stop flexin’stop vexin’what you not |
| And sure 'bout what you got |
| (repeated 'til fade) |