[1.verse: Twisted Artistics]
My man Deckdaddy's dropping them drums
To hurt your abdominal ones
Word to your mums
Get your hands out 'your pockets or some'
It 'a double the fun
Twisted rhyme-pattern properly done
Now get up and jump
To this blend-vibe opposite from
Cats talking as one
Who recently stopped sucking his thumb
I'm talking to young
Cats all across the third rock from the sun
From scarlets to nuns
To you saints, to you prodigal sons
Pump it up in the trunk
Wether you're wealthy or stuck in the slums
Think not that I'm one
Of those punks who's pockets 'a run out
When profit is gone
From black-jack and bottles of rum
Due to my pops and my mums
I live life like the modest of monks
Bigging up all the ones
Holding me down when obstacles come
Not up for no compromises these knockers don't want
Your free markets, your cunning deceits we oughta cut out your tongues
At the top of your lungs
Ruffnecks set the riot off at these punks
'till apocalypse and beyond
There just ain't no stopping this one
[Hook: scratches by Deckdaddy]
[2.verse:]
Rocking it so opposite of all talk about automobils
And other profitable topics that the market will
Keep flashing 'till apocalypse kills
All of them. Take heed in the words of King Solomon;
"All is vanity" (I) refuse to be falling in line
It's sickening to see how kids be spit-licking to get a bit of shine
In stead of sticking to practicing hard and saying a better rhyme
They got chicks up in their vids rubbing tits
But we stay on some other-ish
Twisted Artistics and Deckdaddy-selecta
Spinning that renegade-vibe to interact with the mainstream
X-ray-beam to the game (the) type to wake you up out of your daydream
What I bargain my stardom to take part in
Retarded guardian of the mic, burn emcees to carbon
All Clark Kent 'till I'm on that stage
Or I be chilling all night up in that Combat-cave
With a stomach-ache from too much chocolate
It's that paranoid gathering on hide out from the apocalypse
[Hook]
[3.verse: Blak Philly]
My man Deckdaddy's dropping them drums
To hurt your abdominal ones
Word to your mums
Get your hands out 'your pockets or some'
It 'a double the fun
Twisted rhyme-pattern properly done
Now get up and jump
To this blend-vibe opposite from
Cats talking as one
Who recently stopped sucking his thumb
I'm talking to young
Cats all across the third rock from the sun
From scarlets to nuns
To you saints, to you prodigal sons
Pump it up in the trunk
Wether you're wealthy or stuck in the slums
Think not that I'm one
Of those punks who's pockets 'a run out
When profit is gone
From black-jack and bottles of rum
Due to my pops and my mums
I live life like the modest of monks
Bigging up all the ones
Holding me down when obstacles come
Not up for no compromises these knockers don't want
Your free markets, your cunning deceits we oughta cut out your tongues
At the top of your lungs
Ruffnecks set the riot off at these punks
'till apocalypse and beyond
There just ain't no stopping this one
[Hook: scratches by Deckdaddy]
[2.verse:]
Rocking it so opposite of all talk about automobils
And other profitable topics that the market will
Keep flashing 'till apocalypse kills
All of them. Take heed in the words of King Solomon;
"All is vanity" (I) refuse to be falling in line
It's sickening to see how kids be spit-licking to get a bit of shine
In stead of sticking to practicing hard and saying a better rhyme
They got chicks up in their vids rubbing tits
But we stay on some other-ish
Twisted Artistics and Deckdaddy-selecta
Spinning that renegade-vibe to interact with the mainstream
X-ray-beam to the game (the) type to wake you up out of your daydream
What I bargain my stardom to take part in
Retarded guardian of the mic, burn emcees to carbon
All Clark Kent 'till I'm on that stage
Or I be chilling all night up in that Combat-cave
With a stomach-ache from too much chocolate
It's that paranoid gathering on hide out from the apocalypse
[Hook]
[3.verse: Blak Philly]
( Twisted Artistics )
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