Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Traction, artist - The Dynospectrum. Date of issue: 12.10.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Traction |
| You’re steppin' to us? |
| You need traction |
| Or you’ll be another sucker missin' in action |
| Pathological fantasies of a million OZ’s |
| Inhalational OD ecstasy codeine slow beam vision |
| Of life in and out of prison impressionable wisdom |
| Struggle your zone son, vivid |
| Man, fuck a rapper, fuck his crew and fuck the label that owns him |
| I take it there, state of affairs has got me jonesin' |
| The real hit to get me lit and immobile |
| Promos cross the global but most are lackin' in vocals |
| They don’t suffice, that’s why we must heist |
| There ain’t no substance in your cup |
| There’s just a whole bunch of crushed ice |
| How bout I just buy two nice box sets |
| Before I buy a copy of that obnoxious shit |
| Or even pay to see you rock your shit |
| I lost my grip on the hope I carry |
| But you lost reality when I grabbed the mic and broke your cherry |
| Mission, ignore the bullshit out of existence |
| Alas, overruled, cause they got the masses twisted |
| I wonder if God’ll have any pity on MC’s |
| Or if he’ll just judge them as being average human beings |
| Some ain’t seein' their faults, Others become part of a rapper |
| Caught in a way to be placed in the back of a vault |
| The black angel can’t be caught stalkin' |
| Sometimes you can feel him when you’re walkin' |
| Listenin' when you’re talkin' |
| Thine eyes is keener than a falcon |
| Excuse me for gawkin' I think I seen your face before in a coffin |
| Or maybe I robbed you out while we were golfin' |
| Like ?, jet back off to the loft where |
| We count the software, Life is always false never fair |
| So there’s, no type of amusement to take music out of my hair |
| I grew up psychotic but I kept the shit in the closet |
| Readin' magazines about scopin' and killin' targets |
| That’s why I’m harshed with, any individual |
| Who wants to test the lyrical meta-gal |
| I ring bells and swing rails over the crowd |
| Tryin' to scowl to the mic, Who can envision my living? |
| Havin' sessions throughout the night, Why get excited |
| When I see these fake MC’s stylin', cancelled contracts are pilin' |
| Niggas be jivin'. |
| Tellin' lies and fibs about the life you live |
| You must be high off this drama in the triflin' bids |
| I strike your shit and bring about violent current tears |
| Cause I’m merciless, suck on a nipple just for preservatives |
| Accurate attack, smack niggas back millenniums |
| Militant tactics attract black youth to my Tienanmen square |
| Cinnamon brown-skin four point square |
| Assault mechaniz, I stagger with air, through the record biz |
| Oblivious to foul shit, hell & corporate |
| Dig Dug helium mentality, nigga forfeit |
| Jewels, royalty, car keys, Gs, garment |
| Deadly dormant, ass naked out your apartment |
| Complex, niggas are starving |
| Principality normally, fatality verbally burn, scalding |
| Ancient art forms pour out my cauldron |
| Adrenaline runs free, I’m pole vaulting |
| Faulty individuals seek for higher medicine |
| Mescaline, masculinity converts feminine |
| Melanin, I gots that locked like DNA code |
| Too much ying, without your yang sucker, your bound to fold |
| I been havin' a chat with my alter ego, and we know |
| Suckas will be fakin' everywhere we go |
| He’s a honky and I’m a negro but we’re equal |
| Lookin' at life, stayin' away from what might be lethal |
| Let’s do what’s illegal, I’m sick of this game, it’s evil |
| And niggas is insane like cutlasses and regales |
| I see no more originality in flows |
| That’s why I’ve grown colder than the Minnesota snows |
| And who knows when a life comes and when one goes |
| I just have to stay on my toes long after I’ve gone pro |
| I don’t want the barrio, I need construction concrete |
| To build my shit and I don’t give a fuck how much you stomp beef |
| People try to be extravagant with they inhabitants |
| Yapping about their yearly income and what they’re averaging |
| That shit is gaverin' and all the hoes dancin' in the club |
| Lookin' for love, showin' leg to get a scrub |
| Niggas have got you gassed off the limos and cash |
| But that shit is a fantasy cause I tell you will never last |
| I got a little heart so I’mma tell you a psalm |
| But don’t ever make the mistake thinkin' that I give a fuck |
| Inflicted, I clench my eyes and let the tenseness rise |
| Clench the mic by the neck, take a breath and then surprise |
| Whoda known? |
| We won’t leave you alone |
| We grab you by your collar bone, we drag you screamin' through the zone |
| The truth is shown, that showings after a short break |
| Enough time to violate an MC if we skip the foreplay |
| Now I’mma catch a breath, if you wanna test your rep |
| The line begins over here on the left, Dynospec |