Lyrics Bible Pages - Slaine

Bible Pages

I’m wordtastic, curb ratchet, you herbs wack
I spit crack, leave your pop filter smelling like burnt plastic
I’m just flipping words, my shit is verbal gymnastics
Now please chill and observe, practice
I literally consider myself a literary master
Smoking cannabis with me before a show could be a disaster
I’m obscene as every hood movie black pastor
Fuck blastin', when I see you I’ma smack past ya
This is track number 3 with the legend from Boston
Wow, I’m wicked awesome
I’m the type to skip and enforce them in Boston
They’re tripping, taunting, need to get floored in the lipper
Put that shit to the floor, son
I’m iller than illa, placenta fill us with raw some
Syllables, I just toss them
In the such intricate patterns you would think I run out of shit to say
But all you can do is pray, 'cause I’m not done
Back and my shit is vicious, I caught my glass of riches
Sick and sticking syringes and hit bitches, I’m twisted, we mask up
And we go hard in the Winter
Hard in guerrillas, father their children
The clattered tat of pharmacies
Think it’s a robbery, it’s like the lottery to us
Poverty struck us and molded us just like poverty dishes
Youngins hunting for victims, pop 'em for doctors to fix 'em
Shoutout to them jaw-twitching bitches, let me shove my rock in their kitchen
for crumbs
I get down, prescription pill on my tongue, shit
I used to be young, now I’m as sick as they come
It’s vicious malicious and I’m the terror that ripped through these slums
Blind to the risk I confront every day gripping my gun, living like scum
I’m a monster from the heart of the heartless
A product of a circle of sinners that’s living godless
Hostage to this nonsense, bare arms, no tolerance
Napalm, apocalypse on wacks, I demolish it
It’s Vicious
B town, what up?
I rock shows on the daily
Promoters trynna book me, I’m like «Fuck you, pay me»
They were sleeping 'til I hooked up with Slaine
Fuck the law, I’ma go hard 'til they can reign me
Battle raps, slash Mad Hatter with a battle axe
Swinging where your hat is at, smashing then it’s hatching out
I tuck a burner, taking albums in corner
I find a bum on the street and smack his couple quarters
Take it to Molly with a Somalian in a Ferrari
On his safari or in Narnia, you blow like a harmonica or Monica
You couldn’t see me with binoculars
You are below me, that means I am on top of you
I’ll turn your chick into a porn star
Film that bitch blowin' me and put that shit on Worldstar
Drug sniffer, cut liquor, dirty grunge spitter
Lyrical gun slinger, I let my buzz zing her
I’m catching charges if they guarding for mobbing and robbing nicks fans
Three for the last shit you see, before that mismatched mismatch
Spinning this til I’m giving her whiplash
'Teb with that kick stand more than you can withstand
Fuck it, if they poetry’s deep — they always fail
It’s all tall tales like cold shoulders in Hell
I own my own holder, it’s not what over your head
Before you knowing, it’s all in your head it’s over your legs
For me to flow from the head is what they hope for instead
Give me a moment to blast for us, a toast of the flesh
Administer the sinister, belittling them little boys
Quit spitting, that’s just too much talk and too little heart
They better have the stepping on my dawgs
'Cause if I apply the iron shit, you sleeping on the floor
In spite of what you saw, ain’t nothing as violent as the God
Got you hiding out, make you fucking riding out our store
I’m ill 'cause I slaughter your crew, guilty of bodying you
Yeah I know you in the building, I heard the audience boo
I emerge with deep words, be herbs those street curbs
You sounded gully for a second, it must be the reverb
I get money in traffic and I ain’t talking sinking bridge
I’m breaking ribs of hating kids from Gothenburg to Cambridge
Heyo Slaine, I got a table down, I strangle for us
Place bigger than the one fifth of a stegosaurus
Every time I rhyme, cats wanna delay the chorus
Walk through the beam with that green, look like a major tourist
Fuck with Esoteric you better arrange a florist
'Cause I’m flying, I’m deadly, they gotta spray the forest
I’m the nicest motherfucker out when I’m writing
But I’m biased, just a little, ask Tommy Heinsohn
You delicate rappers are deemed irrelevant
How you wore yourself out, but still you ain’t sell a bit
I became exactly everything you feared I would be
Seen the devil, man, I put the holy spirit in me
People looking at me like nobody weirder than me
Couldn’t hear me though unless they had their ear to the street
But, my style’s unchanged, still known by one name
To all the unsane, throwing dick to any dumb dame
My shit is banging, I should spit this in a gun range
Fallen angel sluts addicted to my cum stains
Smart people say it’s dangerous to hang with me
But my people’s just scandalous and angry
You’re staring at the enemy, my face is trouble
The public frowns on me like I’m an interracial couple
I’m a sick fuck renegade in front of you
You make me laugh, I never been afraid of one of you
Your eyes are crossed, you ain’t a boss, you’re just full of Henny
Try and stop me, you would have to put a bullet in me