Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Power Cypha, artist - Tony Touch. Date of issue: 08.07.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Power Cypha |
| Yeah, Gurizzi up in the house, Gang Starr forever |
| (Gang Starr) New York City. |
| Mm-hmm |
| Fuck the fame and the bright lights and all that |
| (Yeah them fuckin chicken-head bitches) I’ma do this here |
| I come off like my sweatshirt when I’m workin' out |
| MC’s be workin out, no doubt |
| You shouldn’t come around cause I’ll beat you down |
| To the ground with this lyrical four-pound |
| Yo, I’m right in your streets, like Urban Outreach |
| Rhyme perfection, injectin' like the doctor |
| Rocked ya, and then shot ya, bow-bow! |
| Whatever you’ve got, I got more |
| You’re insecure, motherfucker! |
| And now your facin', yes, your ultimate challenger |
| The Avenger, your fate is on my calendar |
| Notice this spirit I posess is more than holy |
| I’m Gifted Unlimited… fuck the rest you niggas know me |
| My mic illuminates your whole spectrum |
| Crush your dome section, punks I wreck 'em, mics I bless 'em |
| I don’t why, MC’s would come and test the INI |
| Master of self, my wealth, is just my state of mind |
| I stack my loot, just for the rainy day |
| And you can pour out your forty, for rappers I slay |
| I bring the bounty back |
| And then I give my thanks for just being black |
| I got the knack, the rap format to bust your corpuscles |
| Piecing through your fuckin' snorkel |
| Even if its goosed-down, you get run out of town |
| The apparatus gets blessed, suckers get put to rest |
| No more of the impure I got the cure for this mess |
| The wackness is spreadin like the plague |
| MC’s they wanna get paid, but they can’t make the fuckin' grade |
| How many times are wanna be’s gonna try? |
| Yo, they must wanna die cause they can’t touch the knowledge I personify |
| I travel through the darkness, carrying my torch |
| The illest soldier, when I’m holdin' down the fort |
| For some time now, I held the scrolls and manuscripts |
| When I start to go all out, you be like, «damn, he flipped» |
| Now I’m sick, and fed up with bullshit |
| I got that lyrical Full Clip, givin' the verbal ass-whip |
| So don’t trip, Its the Gifted one, spliff-ted one |
| Alias Bald Head Slick, why is niggas on my di-dick? |
| Cause I be iller than a kamikaze pilot, don’t try it |
| I’m about to start more than a fuckin' riot |
| Styles unsurpassable, and knuckers thats suckers |
| Yo, the motherfuckers is harassable |
| For I be speakin from my parables and carry you beyond |
| The mic’s either a magic wand |
| Or its tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb |
| And I read your palm, no pulse your dead |