Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Look Alive, artist - Specifics. Album song II, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 06.09.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Think Twice
Song language: English
Look Alive |
| Fuck waiting for the beat ima crack these streets open like jailbreaks |
| Sweet, the only flavor we can repeat |
| With no stable mates breathing my savory breeze |
| Fatally sneeze on the track, label it the greatest cd |
| Dining table with the diamond needle squeaking on my vinyl plate |
| Please, im trying to eat mc’s in peace |
| Fry em em grease, you cook em live, ima repeat the hook and |
| Jive to the illness think twice conceived |
| Call it vibes, goodness, some kind of fuckin fly pudding |
| If rap was tonic i put the cap on and shook it |
| And douse dips, the house party kids i shout scripts |
| The child golden chickens down loads with no mouse clicks |
| If you choose to party like no tomorrow is due |
| Get live with gold body |
| Look alive |
| And move your sorry ass |
| Im hooked on your kind |
| The glorious |
| I floss raps, paper scraps, jaws and traps |
| Stiletto metal cross etched in my neck bone |
| Inverted words sketched on walls ghetto the kid |
| Holding melon is gold, several karats, we’re old fellows |
| My flow is the medicine |
| Kept us in good health, whenever albums on the shelves are |
| Embarrassing or they’re sedatives, i flex my mouth |
| Every syllable a black dot spilling my ink |
| On heavy chemical tablets i scratch thoughts |
| You villains should think fast |
| Shotgun miller genuine draft, drop your mic, dash |
| Im nice like broads drunk |
| God’s sons false like bronze fronts and ice rhinestones |
| Yall just run around in circles like time zones |
| Laid back and chillin |
| Talk about the treats on the tv screen with my fellow james bond |
| Villains swillin |
| Everything short of a pigsty by picked eyelashes, thin |
| We mixed dry gin and sip tastefully |
| Dips with grace, bullies and high school scarfaces get laced |
| Boogie and break |
| I make sounds like wookie, get down with fly bookies |
| Trying to pay me back with cookie baggies |
| On the dance floor ducking like daney sippin was lucky |
| Shuffle kicks, lazy gimps, fuckin crazy pimps |
| With handstand punches, that stun bystanders |
| And drunk chicks chewing up banana bunches |
| We slide bannisters the camera shy amateurs night |
| Shadowy crime fighter slash rhyme analyast |
| We step syncopated, get a drink so fast my tip will hit the table |
| After kids have drained it |
| We pose half toasted |
| Pull my half bow back and blow kiss prey frozen in the focus |
| Like ice cubes, busy meltin in they fizzy melon mixes yo |
| My flow is dizzy, seldom spoken with shitty fellows and punks trying |
| To crowed me |
| Only write rhymes when im drunk or when im drowsy the crown |
| You only sound phony trying to pronounce your ownership of this |
| In hip hop, or your town, city, and block |
| Im like the fist knocking down boxers, claiming the shit they rub on |
| My glove |
| Is to fog their vision of being the top kid rocking a mic |
| Like you was actually holdin a dick, not even beating off right |
| What the fuck |