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A Afu-Ra Lyrical monster
A Afu-Ra Lyrical monster
Lyrical monster |
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| Dodał: Afu-Ra | |
| 08.09.2008. | |
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[DJ Premier scratches] Pure microphone magic Carving up mc's, straight up torch their weak embellishments Getting it Put it on Dirty download gigolo with the illest flow Yeah Perverted Monk high chief [Afu-Ra] Life Force moving swiftly Pitch forks steady miss me My renaissance, my brother's light eclipse me My rough callous feet stomping on these city streets Fuck that turn the other cheek Unless you squeeze a peach No parental advisory, so no need for the bleeps No comin' in my crib unless you wipin' your feet I hit the street, I feel good plus complete A lotta hot rappers ain't nothing without their beat Mark my name, on the clipboard, I gets raw When I was sixteen, that's when I used to rip for it Like Jiminy Cricket, hopping over the candle stick Watchin' my ass, and yo I learnt quick I'm nifty, shifty with my dirt, G Doing my thing, put in work, ain't nothing hurt me I bring it from front to back, white to black Shoe to hat, use clues I'm doin’ that Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious You feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, you do your thing Caress the mic like a baby to make your head bang Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious Feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, do your thing Carve my name in your brain, make your head bang Monumental, thoughts flowing sequential The quintessential mental, tapping into My focus, take it round like a rental And if I have to cut you with my gonzo I'm like a warless sword, I'm digging into Like you can joust defence So many strokes and slashes let off You ain't got not fingerprints Carve you up with my Rambo, ammo Looking like leather-face, trippin' on the dance floor Too much hypocrisy, up in the market, B It ain't about talent, it's all about the currency My magna opus, addicted plus the dopest Maybe I'll write a line and fara canna quote this They got status but can't work the apparatus How could a project sell millions Talking 'bout millions, when half their buyers ain't seen a thousand Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious Feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, do your thing Caress the mic like a baby to make your head bang Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious Feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, do your thing Carve my name in your brain, make your head bang Times is kinda critical, that's why I gotta keep it lyrical Simple and plain, cos I don't wanna riddle you I'm tryin' to black out, cos I'll blow your back out Pullin' my axe out, do a M.O.P. mash out With my dreads out, an' I ain't no type of boy scout Mr Life Force, but you call me The Count Got so many names, that I can't even count Let's see: Paisley, 5th Thaing, Mr How, Dr Intergalactic My other names is under the mattress Now you can get your grades pissed on After your body's been buried From trying to get your diss on Wax off, wax on My calm is bringin' a storm, from the night until the early morn' I got so many styles, forget the grape with wine Life Force on the mic, an' 'bout to put it on Takin' you ass away like I was Kogon Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious Feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, do your thing Caress the mic like a baby to make your head bang Rhyme skills the dopest, the lyrical style I spit is ferocious Feel the beat in the streets and get close to this So while I do my thing, do your thing Carve my name in your brain, make your head bang bielizna
Małżeństwo góralskie miało dwudziestoparoletnią córkę no i koniecznie chcieli ja wydać za mąż. Wzięła matka córkę na rozmowę i mówi do niej : - Córuś, ty córuś trza Ci za mąż iść - Oj trza mamuś, trza - Tylko pamiętoj córuś, że twój narzeczony mo być: łoszczędny, głupi i nieruszany - Dobrze mamuś, bede pamintać Minął jakiś czas i córka przyjeżdża do domu rodziców z narzeczonym z miasta. Zasiedzieli siedługo no i wichura za śnieżycą na dworze sie rozszalała. Więc matka mówi: - Nikaj nie pojedziecie, prześpita sie tutej. Pościele wam w izbie dwa łóżka Młodzi zgodzili sie na to więc tak też się stało. Rankiem córka wychodzi z pokoju cała uśmiechnięta. Widząc to matka sie pyta: - I jak córuś ten twój narzeczony, łoszczędny jest ? - Oj mamuś jaki łon łoszczędny. Tylko co żeśmy weszli do izby to on mówi "Po co mamy brudzić dwa łóżka, prześpijmy sie w jednym" - Oj łoszczędny jest córuś, łoszczędny. A głupi jest? - Oj mamuś jaki on głupi !!! Poduszkę zamiast pod głowę to on mi po dupę wsuwa - Oj głupi, córuś głupi. A nie ruszany jest ?? - Oj mamuś, siusiaka to on miał w celofanie jeszcze. |
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