Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sound the Alarm, artist - The Four Owls. Album song Nocturnal Instinct, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.04.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: High Focus
Song language: English
Sound the Alarm |
Block the exit, call security |
Its the owls, the owls |
Nocturnal instincts |
Outdoing myself like public masturbation |
There’s only gold that I find like egyptian casing |
Shit hits harder than the blunt that they’re lacing |
Running down the street like Smokey when they’re chasing |
Like customs out for the right cheque |
It’s the rhyme vet |
I stay grounded like a side step |
Dialects higher, only few could ever grasp him |
Scientists are warning like it’s Godzilla passing |
So unique that the government are marking him |
Hunt me down like I had the super power harbouring |
Harnessing my strength would be a problem for all |
What’s left is turned loose like an opening tour |
People always say yes become a crime lord |
Put your hands together like your standing on the diveboard |
Hard headed like I’m really half cyborg |
Uplift the nation but only playing the right chords |
Yo |
So now we switching up the frame like we benching weights |
We were meant to play centre stage |
When I tread the maze, set the pace |
Step away from the vehicle. |
I don’t know your destiny |
I give them hits but then I get to keep the rest of me |
My nerves are jumping all over and it’s starting to get to me |
Is it really telepathy? |
Am I reading it mentally? |
Where does the adventure lead? |
Guess we finding out eventually |
The centerpiece of the table, I’m never leaving, I’m faithful |
The recipe they’re unable to copy. |
Maybe they got me |
Tables are turning and nature is working its magic |
I’m swerving the track, bursting the barriers |
Watching how good people are turning to savages |
Observing the damages like damn this shit |
I don’t understand this shit |
Was acting like a captain and he just abandoned ship |
Shit |
Everywhere I go, I’m moving on the low |
Holding down the show with a bag of dro |
Old school like Casio watches when he flow, never know |
How the flow get switch up, when I swap it |
Like the topics shit will heat up like the tropics |
You’ll get held up like a hostage, that’s my final diagnostic |
Throw you in a giant mosh pit, taking all your dosh until |
Your life is what the final cost is Here’s |
Some A Class lines You better get crushing |
'Till your rushing dilate your pupils dunkno they let the sun in |
They lie awake buzzing wilding from the substance |
Hyperventilating to these lines and percussion |
Are they white or rhyming substance Iron eyes in abundance |
That’s the oneness that’s wanted like hunters |
I wonder where the blunt is spin another one and bun it |
Am I on it?, That’s a hundred |
So I’m out here rhyme fronting |
I’m repping from the gutter of the cities to the bumpkins |
The barbarian of sound. |
Banging my chest |
I rock a barb wire crown, bin bag as a vest |
The scrap pile king. |
Police are back filing |
But they gonna have the resurrect Elliot Ness |
I’m telling you straight, (who?) Llywelyn The Great |
My troops record the revolution and send me the tapes |
Wives fanning me with palm leaves sending me grapes |
Or it’s off with their heads call me Henry the VIII’th |
I’m followed by the thunder and the snow and I won’t be happy until this world |
is under my control |
Where the light is, we’re coming from the other side |
My vampires attack until the sun arise |
Why the fuck you acting unsurprised |
The dark lord up in the death star, above the skies |
Illegitimate king, you best believe this shit |
I’m beheading anyone that’s questioning my leadership |
Back with a bang, hatching a plan |
To be a prodigy the same time fatter the land |
I used to smoke hash with my nan |
She told me that we stick it to the man |
That the cash took the knowledge and ran |
From the land of the hippy, divvy the mud pie |
Not Mississippi. |
From a drip and if you want to get drippy |
Like strizzy went from sticks to the city bricks and the kitty leave |
Women singing it’s a pity but it ain’t really |
Never a diva, seal or the beaver and there’s a bunch of shit rappers |
That don’t fuck with me, don’t fuck with them either |
Bunch of G’s up in Britain, always has been police |
Trust the procedure, so we Ebeneezer Goode |
I ain’t your usual bad character, actually nice |
But still abuse and embarrass you face to face |
Don’t take the place of the amateur, I’ve seen it happen before |
They think they coming raw but the get blinded by the camera |