Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song More Dynamite, artist - Verb T. Album song More Dynamite, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.05.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: High Focus
Song language: English
More Dynamite |
This is kind of like more dynamite |
It’s like flames to the fuse every time we write |
90's mind, built with divine design |
Live and direct: it’s More Dynamite! |
This is kind of like more dynamite |
It’s like flames to the fuse every time we write |
90's mind, built with divine design |
Live and direct |
(Verse 1 — Sonny Jim) |
I tell ‘em, «Step into my greenhouse» |
Weed plants and THC clouds |
Bouncing off the backboard |
Picking up the rebounds |
I and I still keep it raw like '95 |
Red letter skiver’s guide |
Slip, get the tiger swipe |
Picking up a souvenir |
Wait when you see me high flying through the air |
My aim’s the apex |
Watch me turn it in in a day |
What you’re dealing with’s great |
I run the loop and let it click into place |
Beat deadlines don’t give me a date |
My texture’s fantastic |
You can’t match the mesh of my fabric |
And foolish rappers keep making it delusion ballads |
I’m deep sea diving |
Son I’m schooling snappers |
I roll my doobie backwards |
And watch the future happen |
Teleprompter through the camera |
Tell the crew to cue the action |
I don’t owe you Jack |
And I don’t know you from Adam |
Sonny Jim signing out |
After adding to the anthem |
(Chorus — Verb T) |
This is kind of like more dynamite |
It’s like flames to the fuse every time we write |
90's mind, built with divine design |
Live and direct: it’s More Dynamite |
This is kind of like more dynamite |
It’s like flames to the fuse every time we write |
90's mind, built with divine design |
Live and direct |
(Verse 2 — Verb T) |
So tell me: «Why you so arrogant?» |
You’re not important |
Bitch, I’m a veteran |
You’re an abortion |
I’m caustic; |
causing them fools to abort mission |
Dump you in my cauldron |
You burn like a whore’s kitten |
You’re twitching |
I can sense danger |
Like red lasers are pointing at 10 strangers |
A bad look; |
like guys that wear makeup |
I run up in your house disguised and tear the place up |
Wait! |
Acknowledge it |
Throw flames upon ‘em |
I’m propane; |
I’m bombing ‘em |
Cold case, I’m gone again |
No name; |
anonymous |
So save your pondering |
You’re lower than pond scum |
I’m built for the long run |
One punch then you’re out for the count |
I cut off the generator that power your house |
And send electrical clouds to come and shower you now |
I’m like a rottweiler coming to devour you clowns |
(Chorus — Verb T) |
(Verse 3 — Joker Starr) |
Check it |
It’s the big Jokes about to blow up this bitch |
TNT wrapped in some C4 substances |
The kind of explosion that’s accomplished with |
Fuse lit, kaboom, your bits lying in parts and shit |
And explosions come from my private parts and bit |
When I come, I’m tired and the girl wants to spit |
Last night man, linked up with this groupie chick |
Got a man and a kid; |
still? |
on a magic stick |
She moving like the God can’t handle it |
Hand on them hips, no love hearts from Cupid bitch |
Cream up in this bitch like the days of Wu Tang |
Ooh baby! |
I like it raw — in her boom skank |
Raw explosions to leave you burned son |
Play with dynamite; |
a lesson learned son |
9 months later, be holding her son |
Bung, bung, bung, so forth and so on |