Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Junkyard Fight Scene, artist - The Alchemist. Date of issue: 10.06.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Junkyard Fight Scene |
| Since birth I’ve been repping the turf, the dark shadow verse |
| Shallow Hal, bleeding pen pal, I need to see it first |
| Intangible, blow wig, manageable, nod, eat the chief |
| Blow the steam, blow the Ox out, she want my piece of tea |
| My fiends feed off the lead off pitcher |
| Pitch a no hitter, bleed off the scene I sent ya |
| It goes baby mini Mac, spitting similac seizure |
| The house, the car, the baby sitter, amnesia |
| Invented by the bullshit I twitted, follow me close |
| I’ll lead you to my office of murder, gatting at those |
| Flamingos, Pablo Costo with all the gringos |
| A Starr like Ringo, my shots like free throws |
| Shivering in they boots, with is destitute |
| Like the scripture of the garden of eden forbidden fruit |
| The roots are resolute, high definition |
| Needing no repetition, fancy bitches in high boots |
| Thinking is digital, smokescreen sneak attack, mind like water |
| Bone crusher, blood spiller, what you think of that? |
| Coming up with all types of shit |
| I don’t even write no more I just let Dr. Dre write my shit |
| My squad is impossible odds |
| With the posture of God, shocked by high tropical charge |
| We blow skittles, coke dribble, wrote riddles and quotes |
| Army cold killers of the Coast, popping the most |
| My stee' is to get the pot cooking, catch you slipping |
| And hop up out the bushes when you not looking |
| What you tryna prove, you just a molecule |
| I drop charcoal and start barbecuing all of you |
| Artists marching, parched and we taught 'em the article |
| No comicals, we just body niggas, promise you |
| Flow tiller, killer gorilla, Godzilla |
| Peel a onion head nigga for scrilla, no filler |
| Thriller, moonwalk, mashed potato, Clark Gable |
| Stable, two step shatter and strangle, gold cable dangle |
| Durag under the fitted, gold kitted |
| Spit it special at a diva delicious, blowing kisses |
| This is pure pathetic, fresh phonetics |
| Style embedded from arrogant rock, don’t sweat it |
| Let it, simmer and sit, my glimmering gift |
| Curse niggas with a present now you swimming in shit |
| Shit, it’s the Backwoods, military, cobra khan |
| Twisted off of monkey brains, dumping out the firearms |
| Get your riot on, Rodney King |
| Rock heavy bling and break Cali out of the bing |
| We the illest, cocaine crack rap concealers |
| Mac Millers, ready to clap at wack niggas |