Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Soundscience, artist - Souls Of Mischief. Album song Trilogy: Conflict, Climax, Resolution, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Record label: Hiero Imperium
Song language: English
Soundscience |
Yo, come on |
Ladies and gentlemen, yeah, uh, uh, yeah |
Evidence and Babu on the beat, for Souls of Mischief |
So unique yo, yo Ope set it |
I’m sharper than Clive Barker or Steven King when I’m authoring evil things |
I’ll smoke you like a Marlboro, but I’m a cheeba fiend, puffin white zombie |
That make people dream of cities of gold |
Around the world twice before I was 20 years old |
Fuckin' slutty-ass hoes, and top-notch babes spending money uh-oh |
Offerin' to buy me some coke |
Listen baby I’m a lyricist, that’s not my thing |
I slang dope, but not pharmaceuticals super flow |
Yeah numero uno cuz you know |
The human cat scan wouldn’t read your brain, they say «He's insane!» |
Listen to my raps man |
Colder than zero, I’ll freeze the rain, hail mary |
We remain, don’t care if we front page on the rolling stones |
It’s in my chromosomes to hold my own, rock till I’m overthrown |
I’m jack hammering, raps of stone |
Walls and I won’t fall |
Victim, drunk like I’m awesome, incredible, federal |
Like forty watter (?), hotter than an orgy, spot a corny nigga from a mile away |
Yeah, Eastside Oakland, raised me that way, I got my three eyes open |
Get played like a saxophone, fracture bones, knees thighs head |
And keep firing when I hear sirens |
Mind your own, try to find your own, before your |
Time is gone, see we all dying' alone |
I’ll never be the one to cry if you don’t |
But who the fuck am I to imply what you decide is wrong |
Give a fuck about what you side you on |
Or you going to kill |
Niggas keepin' it real don’t pay none of my bills |
Still I keep at it to feed my weed habit |
No seeds, its sticky green, please, I don’t need acid |
«We be developed in this rap shit» |
«Souls of Mischief» |
«You got to understand» |
I’m chocolate thunder on the track board |
Throwing heat like Goose Gossage, sidearm |
Like a firearm on a hostage |
Ready for combat, it’s contact sport with gat forced hiphonics |
They high drama like Trump and Ivana |
I’m art, 2600 sharp and nimble |
Transmission double clutch I’ll double dust the symbol |
Pimp diffusion, monophonics many moogen |
Skate to Cardinal (?) like glaze on Olympic luges |
Fluctuate my deluxe delusions, a state of flux maneuver |
I’m armor-all on vinyl, ya’ll vaginal |
In a candlelight vigil when vital signs are final |
Flat line your spinal, throw rhymes and tight spirals |
Hammer up through the head winds with Evidence, Babu and ira science, |
hire a sniper |
I still dodge the bullets while I windmill the viper, high performance |
And use your face as a windshield wipers |
Have you wearing six inch heels and a diaper bitch |
Now you get banged for your buck not bang the switch |
This here we taking shit, and they ain’t taking shit |
And if you take this shit, rework it and remake it we gon' break your shit |
I said it, minutes set it, any man in my dominion |
Demeaning the inner tenant entertainers, my tenants remain true |
You do you, as far as I’m concerned this is all mine and ya’ll my tenants |
This rhyming of polemical proportion |
Scorching the mundane claims of you pedestrian thespians |
Histrionics, Ebonics lace tales of crimes and chronic in the myriad ways you |
chase tail |
The mirror’s amazed at what it sees |
MCs empty reflections and soul projection |
I use the message as my soul’s protection |
Etch out some complex shit, man that next shit |