Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Proper Aim, artist - Souls Of Mischief. Album song Montezuma's Revenge, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 30.11.2009
Record label: CLR
Song language: English
Proper Aim |
| Uhh, the deadly pedigree leave little for editing |
| Thoughts of deadin me inevitably put you ahead of me |
| I’m steadily battering your chicanery |
| With battery after battery BLAST your smattering |
| To smithereens, y’all ain’t as tough as y’all appear to be |
| Kinda queer to me (HI!) soft lyrically, scared of triggery |
| Get to steppin cause I’m quick to check 'em with the Heckler |
| In the chip and peppers restin next to my pecker |
| I stress the maximum effort; |
| I can’t relax cause I’m reppin |
| So face the fact that I’m fresher and take it back to the essence |
| With my spectacular methods of slayin tracks with a vengeance |
| Send 'em packin when attacked with an immaculate sentence |
| It’s Tajai |
| Let me introduce myself, my name is A-Plus |
| No need to check 'em, I got big ol' ape nuts |
| I’m in love with hip-hop, it ain’t lust |
| Whenever we drop, people they thank us |
| Can’t stand rapper a talkin shit but cain’t bust |
| The flamethrower hit 'em up and makes dust |
| Tell 'em fold, I’m workin with a straight flush |
| Get to steppin before you miss the late bus |
| You lame fucks wanna get your frame touched |
| I hear 'em talkin but they ain’t sayin much |
| A jump to that mission to make bucks |
| Niggas done came up but listen it ain’t luck |
| I’m A1 mayne, you? |
| You can’t cut |
| The same stuff you some lower grade huff |
| Fiends tried your dope and no one stayed up |
| Maybe cause your flow and your show is straight butt! |
| It’s not a game, nobody playin |
| We can drop your whole team with a proper aim |
| Nobody playin, know what I’m sayin? |
| Souls of Mischief got a beam on a lot of lames |
| They all the same, that’s why we came |
| We can drop your whole team with the proper aim |
| It’s not a game, nobody playin |
| Know what I’m sayin? |
| Op don’t need amphetamine |
| Op is an adrenaline fiend, Op live for the filthy scheme |
| Op gotta get the fettu-cine, similar to Medellin |
| Cartel, you never met a king |
| That’s pushin with a head of steam like I’m Edgerrin James |
| Biggest Kilimanjaro bantamweight spaghetti green |
| They whylin in the mezzanine with a heavy chain |
| Follow to your limousine, stuck you like a nicotine patch |
| My reaction time is like a matador |
| If it seem imagined or inflated, check your vantage point |
| In-between the inconvenient truth you can’t afford it |
| Hey! |
| When it’s me it’s guaranteed like the planet’s orbit |
| Yeah she leave yo, geometric patterns |
| Tattoed on a battle wound, red Phes' rocker |
| Deep my gastric juices, battery acid |
| Placid opacity capacity massive |
| Tenacious assassin in dark glasses |
| Sasketchewan to TexArkana spark advancements |
| My hallmark art enhancement, often transmit |
| From the ballpark, transit, for start ransom |
| Parkin lot dance a lot, bound to cop a pound of pot |
| Off the countertop and cops canceled out the counter plot |
| Hoes serve, but think fast it’s impulse |
| To the motor nerve, it’s mo' to burn, quarter germ |