Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone The Quickening, artista - Army of the Pharaohs. Canzone dell'album Heavy Lies the Crown, nel genere Рэп и хип-хоп
Data di rilascio: 20.10.2014
Limiti di età: 18+
Etichetta discografica: Enemy Soil
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese
The Quickening |
Back at the yard again, horrifying horror harvesting |
Awkward like my origin, obvious god with a pen |
Hawking a Benz on your carpet of tens, I’m lost in the winds |
Offing the officers inside of my office again |
The offers are in, I’m taking, I’m running, I’m gone |
Blazing and running I’m drawn, more clips dumping in songs |
You say something is wrong, asking what planet’s he on |
Earth is my mind is in but Jupiter’s what I’m actually on |
I’m practically spawned from a pharoah, my life different |
My knife ridges sharper than ice, is it I’m nice with it |
It got to be that it’s probably cause it’s obvious in fact |
It’s popping I’m probably polying with lottery stacks |
Illegal alien desert eagle Damien’s partner |
The bullets make a harder departure, shit’s a rocket launcher |
And I’m a monster in under armor |
The calm of the storm, the horror is on |
You niggas is barking I’m gone |
I paint the town with outrageous sounds, I’m a Pharoah |
I leave you looking like you Richard Harrow |
You’re back up on my shit again |
Say hi to my little friend |
I’m crushing all you little men |
Wild cat like I’m Kentucky bred |
I don’t buck the lead I press the lead to paper |
Pen off another caper, you |
Wasting time with all them hundred bar verses |
Cause I murder ya’ll and send you home in hundred car hearses |
Cause you worthless |
Off to the races I’m quick |
Cough in your faces I’m sick |
You don’t need a coffin cause I’m probably crematin' your clique |
Listen I’m making a list and killing every name on it |
Might put the blame on it, track I’m insane on it |
Dick with your dame on it |
They call 'em chin up bars, every word you hang on it |
Like Big Daddy Kane on it |
Use your brain, you’s a lame, ain’t no way to soothe the pain |
Pharoahs putting you to shame |
Come on die now |
Every time we spit rounds everybody get down |
Lose your life now |
Every time we spit rounds everybody get down |
Take your life out |
Every time we spit rounds everybody get down |
Underground king shit, Pharoahs we breaking the cycle |
You dead on arrival, we coming and we taking the title |
We back at it, old school rappers don’t want no static |
Our tour should be covered by National Geographics |
Carnivore addicts, no suppressing to kill the appetite |
A rapper’s life of smashing mics, niggas just not rapping right |
Ya’ll acting like the takeover, its already happened |
An arsenal of ratchets if I’m talking backpacking |
There ain’t no acting, I live right in the cuckoo’s nest |
Since the days of buddah blessed, my flow has been ludicrous |
So who is next in line claiming they repping? |
But there ain’t a weapon that can stop all this natural selection |
And you can count on the Army man we always supplyin' |
We like roaches, we always living and never dying |
Ay yo we blacked out, trenched down |
I’m Marley in Trenchtown |
Cock back, spray rounds, leave you drenched down |
Run from the loud sound or we be on you like blood hounds |
Pharoah clique live in your home town |
We capitalized like we be sticking up pronouns |
Didn’t know you know now, guilty never blow trial |
Stick you up face down told you we don’t play clown |
When it come to spraying rounds, collapse and niggas lay down |
Standing here flack planet permanently etched in granite |
Coward niggas panic, haters simply can’t stand it |
Sail the Atlantic, crushing tours like Titanic |
We impact the world nigga, gigantic |