Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lyrical Lullaby, artist - Pervelous P Camp PresentsDate of issue: 14.06.2002
Song language: English
Lyrical Lullaby |
| A whole defensive line couldn’t stop my rhymes, |
| I leave tricks flatlined with columbine lines |
| And crack spines, |
| I leave mics numb with morphine, |
| Your team could step and get blazed like nicotine, |
| Burned like gasoline in the tank of my beam, |
| Sunk like submarines while I fuck a marine, |
| I’m A Team, about to blow up like caroseen, |
| My flows is hittin like a pipe with no smokescreen |
| More lines than magazines, droppin verses like fumbles |
| … I turnbuckles in lyrical royal rumbles |
| While you bitches stumble, we shake em like runnin backs |
| Kickin up more dust than Carl Lewis runnin track |
| My flash then Kodak, kickin lip when I’m pimpin, |
| Bustas could’ntsee me with mothafuckin restrictions |
| I pop the clip in for suckas who start friction |
| To keep you bustas movin like this was an eviction |
| I’m from «don't five a fuck dot com» |
| I spit these raps like two gats plus the holy Qur’an |
| It’s essential I bust like a block monsta, |
| Duck low from the blaze of this helicopta |
| Like Agatha Christie, you’re dyin a mystery, |
| Because these streets are real, seriously |
| Buggs Bunny mothafuck you know who I am, |
| Rap gun slanger yo Simity Sam |
| Yo, spicy like Cajun rice, cold as ice |
| You rev like the Dodge Daytona with the pipes |
| My empires strikes back for tigas and Jedis |
| Lyrics that kill rhymes, 2 to the 4 5 |
| My soul is the soul of a replicon, |
| Decepticon, and you ain’t even met Shere Khan |
| Cause I’ll bounce you like a Polo stick off a brick, |
| Then lose you in the smoke of the cannabis |
| Yo, the popeye crooked eye, strapped with a alibi |
| The only MC to shoot you a lullaby |
| Darth Vader force, of course, round the neck |
| MC slugs, of course, round the chest |
| This is how we blaze for Jah, rock your Kah |
| And tell those freaks to, yeah, drop your brah |
| The pisces killa whale is like a diary |
| And I’m a boss at what I do, you can’t fire me |
| I grab the mic and spit flows til I decompose, |
| I been screamin «fuck the hos"since I was an embryo |
| And fuck the radio, I’m stayn strictly underground |
| And, |
| Fuck a trick, I wouldn’t save a bitch if she was drownin |
| 2 10s poundin in my 325 |
| Rippin 10 times 65, combined with 4 and 5 |
| Comin straight from the west like a south paw crackin jaws, |
| A player with a bigger sack than Santa Claus |
| My shits raw, that’s why I’m bout ta blow like land mines |
| Equipped with more lines than the New York Times |
| My rhymes is dope like a syringe of heroin |
| Cause I got my shit together like Siamese twins |
| You fake like a mannequin, your flows ain’t tight |
| Bitch ass MC’s could’ntsee me in daylight |
| And this collaboration, is for a classic compilation, |
| 5−0s hatin, I’m hittin fences like immigration |