Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Centre Of The Storm, artist - Roni Size. Album song In The Mode, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.1999
Record label: Mercury
Song language: English
Centre Of The Storm |
Bless, this vision I sketch a war cry can’t rest |
Across frequencies east and west style |
Raw adrenaline, let’s tap the vein main line resistance, meditate maintain |
Raw to settle, the matter the cops scattered, our blood |
Lost so matter of fact no love lost |
See me cock the steely |
Lock on Mussolini’s ill logic on the minds of the flock |
No line divides, violence and reason sold |
This killing season is freezing souls, zero degrees and cold |
There’s 41 reasons to blast back |
No one, followed Diallo to the grave. |
fade to black |
While all my city is heavy |
I drop elephant shit smeared the face of the |
Fascist priest’s pulpit |
So to the mayor may I, say I, endorse the wholesale murder of your force of |
course |
Cause peace is a myth in New York |
Burning white rocks got caught |
Don’t choke, if ya smell smoke, (what?) |
I dip my tongue in gunpowder and then I clear my throat |
The Aggravator, true shit spitter Mobb like Goodie |
While my hoody hides my eyes |
The critics rush me like |
Salman Rushdie as I |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm |
I toss pieces of my syllables like salt by a sumo |
Call me Akibono Akazuna, numero uno |
Puro Mejicano my angle is I dangle styles for |
The flock to follow |
Too deep for the shallow |
Superstitious niggas that get played like a tarot |
Bass lines rattle and will shatter your bone marrow |
Blind and can’t see me, believe me Stevie |
No need to Wonder how, Monche became the Pharaoh |
Tongue acrobatter, none |
Phatter, never narrow I Shot The Sheriff and |
Baretta and the sparrow got the Gift like Gab |
Rip your rib cage hollow funk the flame into your brain |
Matter with the sharpest arrows |
The Aggravator, true shit spitter |
Mobb like Goodie while my hoody hides my eyes |
The critics rush me like |
Salman Rushdie as I |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm |
Bless the track, bless the track, (what? what? what?) |
Bless the track, bless the track, (what? what? what?) |
From my mental sparks fly, why is do or die |
5−0 got automatics, so why can’t i? |
Fly by fast like an assassin mashin' |
Soon we’ll see the beast reach for the sky |
But for now I keep my mind sharp |
We’ll be them bang this track in the park after dark |
Lips do flips never kicked fiction |
2000 class summon now face the Guns of Brixton |
Break to face them, never check reality |
On it with Roni we devastate the scenery |
Aggravator, true shit spitter |
Mobb like Goodie while my hoody hides my eyes |
The critics rush me like |
Salman Rushdie as I |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Enter the center of the storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Our jurisdiction the world |
Our jurisdiction the world |
Our jurisdiction the world |
Our jurisdiction the world |
Bless, this vision I sketch a war cry can’t rest |
Across frequencies east and west style |
Raw adrenaline, let’s tap the vein |
Main line resistance, meditate maintain |
Raw to settle, the matter the cops scattered, our blood |
Lost so matter of fact no love lost |
See me cock the steely lock on Mussolini’s ill logic |
On the minds of the flock no line divides, violence and |
Reason sold this killing season is freezing |
Souls, zero degrees and cold |
There’s 41 reasons to blast back |
No one, followed Diallo to the grave. |
fade to black |
While all my city is heavy I drop elephant shit |
Smeared the face of the fascist priest’s pulpit |
So the mayor, may I, say I endorse the wholesale |
Murder of your force of course |
Cause peace is a myth in New York |
Burning white rocks got caught |
Don’t choke, if ya just smell smoke, (what?) |
I dip my tongue in gunpowder and then I clear my throat |
The Aggravator, true shit spitter |
Mobb like Goodie while my hoody hides my eyes |
The critics rush me like, Salman Rushdie |
As I |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm with Size |
Enter the center of the storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |
Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm, Storm |