Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Waterboard, artist - Cappadonna. Date of issue: 03.11.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Waterboard |
| The Flying Dutchman |
| Ay, 'tis the phantom ship that forebodes doom |
| Yeah, motherfuckers, Flying Dutchmen |
| Lex Starwind, Jon Murdock, Cappadonna, the don of mic |
| Helium flash, star mode, apparent brightness, motherfucker |
| Ha, we shine brighter |
| You fucking with the hand of God, destruction’s right arm |
| Flying Dutchmen, pressurize, we brew a slight storm |
| 48 volt power inversion, turn this mic on |
| Get your HD cameras, Canons and Nikons |
| Televise tellin' lies, tell the truth |
| Till there’s demons telling lies to the youth |
| Did the wolves in the den got his eyes on the coupe? |
| Did the troops and the Feds got they eyes over you? |
| Demonize for the proof |
| Black magic, acid rain dance, FIFA dream trance |
| Continental wing to wing feather span, the enhanced |
| Biometric, through the fire wire, pyrotechnic |
| The way the God sound through the mic when projected |
| Well protected method, Vanderslice craft perfected |
| Sound waves contract, expand, enhance when reflected |
| The audio acoustic substance viscus elusive |
| Trained for years for this shit we producin' |
| Upper echelon pantheons what we standin' on |
| Compared to Fisher-Price soundtracks and them candy songs |
| I’m never right, but I can’t be wrong |
| So how the fuck I’m s’posed to eat, feed my family, dog? |
| I’m straight hungry, concrete Congo iron monkey |
| Tryin' to see my problems thin when my pockets get chunky |
| Glock’ll click, pockets rip, blocka hit lovely |
| Jump and flip, hop and skip, got to get money |
| Guard your face, force the ox, box unorthodox |
| I caught a shot, you faggots call the cops or you call your pops |
| No respect, fuck him too, we chase him down |
| Rip him out of his Cadillac, then mace the clown |
| Battle ax him, move like Action Jackson |
| Back smack him, hack him in his back, make him back spin |
| Your moms rush to his rescue? |
| We smack her too |
| All because you rhyme wack just like Maganoo |
| We hate rappers that get promoted but can’t spit |
| We rob rappers at they show for they bracelet |
| We run circles around your favorite rap star |
| And make him think, what the fuck he even rap for |
| 'Cause many people, thinking they bigger than Vinny Diesel |
| Until they hear him spit once and say, «That kid is lethal» |
| But they’ll never get signed to a major label |
| They’re too hip-hop, commercial rap is what’ll pay you |
| Let me tell you something, none of y’all can fuck with this |
| So you can scratch that right off your bucket list |
| You faggot weak sauce MCs could suck a dick |
| But you look gay, so you probably love this shit |
| I had a dream about fucking Shakira in front of a mirror |
| Sipping a beer with ice, no fucks, without a care in the world |
| Fuckin' it, suckin' it, huggin' it, rubbin' it, lovin' it |
| We on some other shit, hoverin' out of the mother ship |
| Drive and find you, Columbine you, silent nine you |
| If you can’t find your God, then Jon’ll find you |
| There’s a right and a wrong way to love somebody |
| You gotta dead your enemies, burn them with the shotty |
| Never let the evil ones take away your spirit |
| Fire, have it burn them, smash them with the lyrics |
| Someone blocked your blessings, the righteous don’t fear this |
| Jah keeping ya sane, stay unified |
| Mind detect mind, black Devils can’t hide |
| Never date a harlot 'cause she never on your side |
| Can’t trust the Pharisees, they based it upon lies |
| Befriend your friends, form alliance with your enemies |
| Jins come around, tryin' to suck up all your energies |
| Flying Dutchmen, we escaping all the penalties |
| Jon Murdock, Lex Starwind, dark ministries |
| Father Cappadonna, yeah, we move like centipedes |
| Never falling victim to the love and them hate degrees |
| Maintaining our status, Wu-Tang, what? |
| Killa Bees |