Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nothing In Particular, artist - The Brotherhood. Album song Elementalz, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.1995
Record label: Virgin
Song language: English
Nothing In Particular |
Face the storm and bring it on! |
Face the storm and bring it on! |
Face the storm and bring it on! |
Flame on! |
We burn mikes like a toxin |
Snipes and hoods are rocking |
Docking fist-to-fist |
Don’t take the risk with the misters |
We give ear drums blisters |
And twist your shadowboxing |
Ignite the night 'cos we be crazy like the |
Culture Ultravoxing |
We smoke the peace pipe |
With brares who’d snap your face with |
So stop adopting the stush attitude |
That’s criss like Eubanks |
You couldn’t even beat us |
Not even with two tanks |
I’m bigger than you, thanks |
You couldn’t identify us |
Why? |
(Why?! Why?!) |
Tell them that it’s Brotherhood flavour (Why?! Why?!) |
'Cos we kick it like this… |
Oh my Lord, it is the quick-fire specialist |
Blowing up tracks like I was a biochemist |
Watch us smash this, watch us do this |
We’re going to make our lyrics make you swing to the groove, kid |
Abracadabra when we flex stagger |
So, watch the horror |
Flick |
And pick up your dic |
Tionary |
And try to deflect the direct commentary |
Shit gets scary |
I’m silencing the lambs, even the little one with Mary |
I’m quite contrary when I burn it cold blooded |
A bush flaming, never taming, never been hunted |
Incognito |
Pyro-psycho |
Two parts Semtex vex one with nitro |
And yes I might go live like Minugs |
Ooh, make 'em 'Aah' when I’m cunning with my lingus |
Ooh, ahh, by the Eric Cantona |
I’m on-ball, I’m on point |
With my crew I smoke a joint |
'Nuff said, on the head check the dread |
I make like a preachy rapper sermon when your arse is dead |
Now watch a string vest bandit slam shit |
Making more money than a motherfucking Clampett |
Torturing your brain, irritating like a migraine |
Fuckery in a fight, doing shit just for spite |
I come fi smite |
So keep your butt in the light |
I’m born in the gutter |
Strictly out for bread and butter |
X marks the spot, so I dig till I drop |
Drop, drop, drop the dead donkey |
We be breaking fake MCs |
For example |
We trample |
And pull apart |
Upstarts |
Ride 'em like carts |
And burn that arse like a fart |
Raped, pillaged |
Subsequently buggered |
Lock 'em in the cupboard with the bones of Mrs Hubbard |
You give me lip, you give me are never learning |
Ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
Ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
Ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
It ain’t nothing in particular |
(Burn, baby, burn) |
Face the storm and bring it on! |
Face the storm and bring it on! |
Face the storm and bring it on! |