Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Millennium Line Up, artist - Solomon Childs. Date of issue: 03.03.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Millennium Line Up |
| Hit you with the new Millenium Line-Up |
| Niggas is hons but yo we all fired up |
| Leavin industry heads and CEO’s tied up |
| Talk is talk, you get ya jaw wired up |
| Made from the best shit on Earth |
| I bring it to ya first, sick verse from the dirts |
| In the darkness we lurk, load a cartridge and burst |
| On the scene, like a news team |
| Let 'em all Eye Witness, the Method how I do things |
| Perfected, my routine’s are hectic and knockin |
| General Electric, I’m shockin (bzzz) |
| Now who top ten? |
| The rotten, Clan once forgotten |
| Niggas poppin Crys' now, they stock market droppin |
| They poison, I’m the antitoxin, that keep the party rockin |
| And got me for assault, Johnny Cochran |
| Get me off, grant in the vault, if I walk |
| Put that order in the court, yeah |
| Jimmy Crack callin, who the fuck really care? |
| (Yeah) |
| World best prepare for Tical 2, beware |
| Or be gone outta here, you be warned |
| Fuck off, get off that bullshit |
| And take the fuckin tux off, now it’s on |
| Thug style, far from a pretty boy |
| My hardcore murder got DJ’s screamin, «I told ya» |
| Hardcore composer, creapin even closer |
| Solomon scriptures written upon my shoulders |
| Militant rap vultures |
| How dare you and your crew pull out to battle! |
| Annihilation, throw in ya towels |
| Peep my West Brighton wolves start to howl |
| See, '74, March 9 style, it’s on |
| So be prepared to fight |
| Lyrics hotter than a B-Town night |
| Rap formats for combat |
| Solomon’ll throw elbows, so stop frontin |
| Mama said, «God forbid my baby take the time to write somethin» |
| MC’s levitated, live in concert hotter than Earth, Wind & Fire |
| The worlds collide and divide, see my style of haywire |
| What? |
| Uh! |
| Fuck the mic, spark the hydro, natural like the rhino |
| Knock you out like shadows on stage, ya hottest rival |
| Might get stiffle, and watch the crowd bounce ya life out |
| Raise the lifeforce, my only aim is like the rifle |
| Street is cycle, here in this game here we disciples |
| We only get triffle, open ya eyes you see a bible |
| Stainless scapel, BS will touchin collateral |
| Fuck the manuals, the automatic’ll leave you casual |
| Drop you lateral, then charge you like a bitch’s vaginal |
| Bring ya can-a-dles, let you know that’s only flammable |
| Leave ya several, ya nice whore screamin for medical |
| My verse is federal, gettin money from this chemical |
| The only mineral, is Money Makin niggas physical |
| So use ya visual, search the streets for ya crystal |
| ('99) The mic is on, you only evacuate like pistol |
| Ah shit, it’s '98 again |
| Yo, eh-yo, my man Big John keep my high to death |
| I’ll empty this Tec to ya mouth 'til there’s nothin left |
| Yo the feds wanna trap me but I got quick, first step |
| And I brawled out, so tell me what’s next (Yeah) |
| I used to let off, bust a Tec off |
| Pop the cork off, Moet off |
| Like Janet, it’s time to +Set it Off+ |
| Let’s history, I’m makin all y’all niggas feel my misery |
| Pissy off the Crys', but Crystal mixed with Hennessy |
| Remember me? |
| First with the GS3 |
| +It's All About the Benji’s+ like my man PD |
| No question 'bout my flow cuz I got it, got it |
| Think I’m Master P cuz I be +'Bout It, 'Bout It+ |
| I stay laced, all custom-made suits, Italiano |
| Beachhouse Carribiano, with Cap and Swiss models (Yo) |
| Yea, I know, you like my style cuz I be rippin this shit (Yeah) |
| Iced to the cross, y’all niggas is sick with it |
| What? |
| Yea, yea, '99 |
| Mr. Meth, Solomon Childs |
| My nigga Q, what? |
| What? |
| And me, Son Don, uh |
| Yea, we out |