Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kublai Khan, artist - Tragedy. Album song The Best of Jedi Mind Tricks, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 01.12.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Kublai Khan |
God hates me, never keep my banger on safety |
My mother raised me alone, you can’t break me My hearts pumpin’the blood of Hoyce Gracie |
My thoughts dumpin the slug and point straightly |
You rhyme fakely, you still scarred |
I’m studying deep thoughts like Bill Maher |
I’m real raw, we just dumbin’it out |
And y’all ain’t sayin’nuthin’with a gun in yo mouth |
That’s what I’m about, but Vinnie Paz go deeper |
Y’all still under the spell of dose ether |
The Grim Reaper, it’s all nature |
And every word from Allah is on paper |
We all hate ya, we can’t stand you |
Chapter 8, verse 3, book of Thandrew |
You like a candle, you just burn |
You never worship Allah, you can’t learn |
Chemical space ships, taste dust spliffs, hit from the Matrix |
Pig Destroyer, Anakis kiss, splatter your patriots |
Make coast stops, injectin’my pockets with Botox |
Latex bitches be chokin’on cock like Blow-Pops |
My flows hot, my glocks like a popular friend |
Sniffin Oxy-Cottin, we rock till the popular says |
Merciful fate, we at the gates, I hurt you for cake |
Cause Red Planets like a Shit Magnet, it counters with Jake |
Digital cuffs, runnin’from the D’s and the fuzz |
Gut you out, rock Gas Mask, bleedin an stuff |
Into the void like blue velvet, goons and clerics |
New synthetic designer jewels for moods in deserts |
In heaven and earth, barcodes to measure my girth |
Thats like the J.D.L. |
joinin’the Zulu Nation for turf |
Birth of the solar, we did so, write for the cobra |
Goretex readin we all stand with iced out cobra’s |
Check it. |
yo. |
yo Now what it be’s like, niggaz wanna stay tight, I stay right |
Face fight, get your weak, split, shit that I spit |
Most Acurate, Flex writin back a bit |
range on the side of it Yo I’m tryin to get a lot of it |
I rock that exotic shit, spit the hottest shit |
Yo trial, might get the same time giancanna get |
Death before dishonor shit, gangster persona shit |
Jedi Mind, 2−5 is who I’m polly with |
When Im tryin to score the third, it’s who I holler with |
Yo hood, its my project, exchange objects |
Yo guns for my teks, yo range for my lex |
From Q.B. |
to Philly, we control sets |
I stay splurgin, heads stay wrapped in Turbans |
Tigher than a Virgin of Ford Excursion, nigga |
So how you figure that we don’t be reppin' |
Whole drugs and weapons in a dodge intrepid |
Yo Stoupe, whattup baby, whats good |
Jedi Mind, the gracious, 2−5 collabo |