
Date of issue: 13.07.2009
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Heart |
Slightly schizophrenic borderline psychotic |
Sensational recreational narcotics |
I thought I lost it but I found it |
Temptation marches along till I’m surrounded |
Inspired by fire the sensual illusion |
Caught between the crossfire anger and confusion |
Howl at the moon black blanket that’s starlit |
Im rarely romantic plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails |
of the unwanted |
Not to be taken for granted |
My past has come back and haunted for real |
I’ve all ready danced with death. |
a dozen black roses |
I pose with babies breath |
Be afraid a place where magic is made |
I’ll rain on your parade with silver razor blades |
I’m creepin over the fence crawlin through your back yard |
My mind states intense |
Savage penetration on the rocks with a twist |
Now scream and shake your fists |
Cause dreams are made of this |
For real the opposite transmit telepathic |
Roamin' the flats with automatics and back packs |
Doin' jacks for Big Macs, accumulatin' stacks to make G’s Nigga please, |
you artificial |
You dropped somethin', it’s your heart |
An' it’s still pumpin', pumpin' you from this existence |
It seems to be absolutely mandatory, cuz you be manipulatin' skin |
But no way, because you fake I can trace out your image |
Even though you don’t cast one, I smell a rat, I’m smellin' that |
Stay back at least 150 inches |
You brew tea? |
an I know you know I can sense it |
With the nostrils innocently mixed with 6 hostile stenches |
Henceforth the elbow swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed scalps |
Swingin' sleep out your mouth |
How long you been hibernatin'? |
Too long! |
You’re abiding and aiding a felon, to switch your melon |
Droppin' grammar like a judges hammer |
I feel you mark, feel me feel your chart |
You gotta be real an you gotta to have heart |
You gotta to be real an you gots to have heart |
Stir the blur, nuts and bolts whirl |
Stored in electric ports, 4 strong boxes of 10 floors |
Shift the weight towards the door, in hopes of escape |
When hands on cord, the blazing roof Prev creates |
Sound break, concord, eye of the condor |
Hand skills of a saboteur, your in for |
A war that pours coarse of molten into cords |
Strung by the young ones, put me on tour |
No folk lore horsemen for poison, pour in skin pores |
Soft rhymers, metamorphize their cartoon characters |
Grafted from Africa, in this game you got no stature |
Not even a factor in this |
Whole shit makes me yawn |
Snatch your heart out your chest like a '96 ghetto spawn |
Antonym of urban, too feminine for this cut-throat mentality |
Have? |
thoughts in my area, you get snatched out your Suburban |
Fallacy with no antidote, in this? |
your age get broke |
Runnin' from gun smoke, ballin' never rumin' |
Silver spoons crumbin' from flavour |
Soon there will be no overseer to save ya |
When I delve, tell your podiatrist it’s a size 12 |
National? |
Soldiers, leakin' a swine |
A snake with no spine, I’ll see you, I peeped you |
You’ll see blue, the fake: |
A quick death is your fate |
Now, I got shit to do |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Reclaim the Throne ft. Trenyce, Young Kazh | 2009 |
Meltdown | 2009 |
Blackout | 2010 |
Pressure | 2010 |
Odd Goblins | 2014 |
Bang Bang ft. Trenyce, Young Kazh | 2009 |
Dumb ft. Trenyce, Slaine, Everlast | 2009 |
Fuel Injected | 2010 |
Bank Job | 2018 |
Watch This | 2010 |
Deep End | 2010 |
Fire | 2011 |
Concerto | 2009 |
Park Bench | 2014 |
Blood Sport | 2014 |
Kyla | 2009 |
Grenade Launcher ft. Swollen Members, Prevail, Slaine | 2012 |
Homicide | 2018 |
Red Dragon | 2009 |
Cock Blocker | 2014 |