Lyrics Iron Vox - The Procussions

Iron Vox

You can’t trust a rhyme
Take a young rapper’s head from his mustard spine
See’m hanging on the ledge wonder’n what’s the line
Need a «Q» ain’t nobody said cut this time
I see through it like the bullet hitting Custer’s mind
Beat the truth out a bully leave a busted eye
Like I was McFly try to cut the pie
Break a tooth on the crust kid lose your bicuspid
I’m out the trunk and all jewels are trusted
You out to lunch and your fools are rusted
You a tool a husk who must choose a ruler
Who you trust the new or old schooler knew the rules
Were made by those who only use the laws
To get paid off those ruled applause
So if the rebel and renegade must get paid off rap
Hm, marinate on that
This that hardcore, that real
It’s that medication that heals
I make that ghetto music they feel
I got that alternate for that pill
They want that
You got alot of belief in his stanza to become the answer
The antidote in a man’s hands demands
A little more than a couple of lines on this beat
Nice watch, you get it from that speech?
Find your teacher, the poet, the preacher
Take notes when the ticket is sold for this feature
The prophet who done profited a fortune
He’s pro life on his own life’s abortion
Highly competitive, morally relevant, benevolent
But negative when he clocks out
Beware when he taps out
The choke hold, count below four
For no dough?
He ain’t feeling it no more
Cut the ribbon but cut the check
Nurse, can a man make medicine out of a sick verse?
Beats, rhymes, and life, but life first
My mic it sounds nice but it might just hurt ya
This that hardcore, that real
It’s that medication that heals
I make that ghetto music they feel
I got that alternate for that pill
They want that
I’ma laugh at the face they brand
To take another lap in the race they planned
A villain in a mask, a leash on a lamb
To keep that relevant truth from a man
This fella got a wired heart
A night in dark, he shoots with a liars dart
Aimed at a mired art
I’ma I’ma
I’ma hack at that passé caste system
With a class A craft till the last victim of the math
Division in a graft decisions on a path for dominion
I’m a blast
This ghetto with a giant Sharp
A lion’s heart defiant with my iron box
Fire from the Krylon top with my style on wild
And my dial on Rock
Can’t stop pariah beat the block till it pops
Be to mock your sire be a notch in my Hi Tops
Cops for hire try to stop me
But can’t make me drop my pliers
Gonna crop you wires if you’ll not retire
We are not inspired we are not admires
If your eyes ears and mouths are not the wiser
You an idolizer