Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Torch, artist - King Magnetic.
Date of issue: 30.03.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Torch |
I stick out like a pistol on a skinny person |
When it’s urgent get punched more times than Vinnie verses |
I’m a problem from the product to the paperwork |
Slave deal make it work, main concern is making earnings |
Got a great attorney, got me in the streets now |
Ultramagnetic |
Critical Beatdown |
Invincible beast now |
Invisible beat burst, street slang, feet first |
Teeth marks Reef’s merch |
It’s enticing reversal, the type that’ll burst you |
The rifle will Earth you, put a knife in your hurdle |
Pipe in your girdle, I’ll stick the fucking mic in the fertile |
Keep it a secret until she sneak the creeping immortal |
In order to keep me you outta, read the disorder |
At least we can afford the quarter of the reefer they brought us |
Give me a warrant so your image won’t last long |
You suspect like armed robbers with no mask on |
Anyone above us, time to plummet now |
Cause we always sound hungry as a stomach growl |
While you run your mouth, my nigga’s run it now |
Till our verses is fucking up your budget now |
I’m a serious beast, you’re a delirious queef |
The bacteria found in traces of period yeast |
Seriously, fear is envy |
You’re frail and you sell fairy tales like a mirror that’s me |
Who’s the fairest? |
I bought you niggas, who’s your parents? |
You repeat what your boss say, you’s the parrot |
God bless all the fools who perish |
Trying to remove the cherished kids who lose the spirit |
Lift you like air lifts, I’m in tune with spiritual damage, you? |
Stop it, stab em, pop it, tag em, drop em, I track em |
And snatch em in flat lands, they’ll find your fat hands |
Stashed inside of a fucking trash can |
Niggas stink like Pepe Le Pew, especially you |
Me and Mag reppin' for Stoupe |
I’m next to get due so to respect me is due |
Dawg I shot the sheriff and the deputy too |
Anyone above us, time to plummet now |
Cause we always sound hungry as a stomach growl |
While you run your mouth, my nigga’s run it now |
Till our verses is fucking up your budget now |
Anyone above us, time to plummet now |
Cause we always sound hungry as a stomach growl |
While you run your mouth, my nigga’s run it now |
Till our verses is fucking up your budget now |
I am felt from Philly to the Bible Belt |
A champion who smoke weed like Michael Phelps |
If my words don’t do it then my rifle help |
You nice and all that homie but don’t hype yourself |
Thinking you can creep in and just swipe the belt |
Don’t blame God, you ain’t strike yourself |
Catch a hook like a new chorus |
It’s not about what the music does for you |
What can you do for it? |
I quit Newports, I borrow a cig now |
The same caliber of the shit that’s a big now |
Beast that’s compared to deceased in they region |
Get open with a stick like my blinds Venetian |
Crimes is recent, the rhymes I’m leasing |
Define my reason I’m squeezing the nine, police em |
Didn’t think you’d be an artist soon, I call this tune |
«Cop King And The Cauze In June» |
Anyone above us, time to plummet now |
Cause we always sound hungry as a stomach growl |
While you run your mouth, my nigga’s run it now |
Till our verses is fucking up your budget now |