Free download
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #28,058
Peak in subgenre #17,728
Author
Kit
Rights
Northern Lights Entertainment
Uploaded
August 01, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.6 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Tired of watching and reading bullshit in the news.
Lyrics
Bad Reviews
Verse 1
I’m coming with nightmares that fill dreams of the sleepless,
I hope your good at hiking cause my rhymes are the steepest,
I creep to this, dark as fuck beat with a new and improved neat outlook;
I’m freeing the nation,
And if you cause friction then prepare for retaliation,
I think behind what I do with no contemplation,
Rocking their boat just to see how far I can take them, threaten to rape them, tie them up and chase them,
My rap teams skills are all natural, we rap attack you, slap you, kidnap you just because we can’t stand you,
Throw metaphors all across the track as if we clapped you,
Never watch the news, media try blow it up like impromptu impact into the world like processed packing with tricks up their shirt sleeves so they can try to trap you,
And not one of my own family can even trust me; they say ‘you disgust me’, cause they think I’m trigger happy,
Truth is I walk these streets alone with no one and no gun, just me myself and a bottle of rum,
And I’m rapping with a full-blown force of mad rappers, mad hatters and a few of this worlds bad actors,
We’ve all been here for half an hour and not one dude in your crew has even tried to slap us,
And yes I am violent by design, with no mind, just a fist and a shit load of spare time,
Close your eyes; open your third eye to see the signs,
But my words are wearing fatigue, so we blend as if you’re blind,
So much bullshit coming from certain people’s mouths, all I do is sit back, relax and smoke out,
Chorus x2
Dilated, triple optic cockpit views,
It’s Synz aka Kit with ‘The Bad’ reviews,
I summon up you all to step in my shoes,
Full force smacked back down, all of you loose,
Verse 2
Your think your sour, truth is your sweet like Tate and Lyle,
Your words are on the tip of my tongue, cause you got such a common style,
I’m seeing a lot more white up in your eyes,
You need a towel not a tissue, because I’m coming from all sides,
God damn, you’re an exact spittin image of Jesus,
But you weren’t born in a stable, and your mums no virgin either,
Shaking at your knees standing in front of me,
You wear baggy jeans to hide the wet patch from where you pee’d,
You spit ill shit, but not good, its sick, as in carrot and puke bits, so why diss Kit?
Before I form a concrete image in my mind, I run it through a cypher, about 20 times,
So you all best feel me, like a book of brail, I’m a fucking killer but minus murder and the wale,
You’re hard, but only cause your rhyme flow’s stale, your career is over, just like Jimmy Nails,
And if you can’t feel me I’m rapping in sign language, this pause right here is where Kit hand styled it,
(miss a bar)
I add the yang to your ying, and oil to your pan, the plan is you should quit rap, do RnB and sing man,
This sound is like getting beaten up by gays in bar fights, on karaoke nights while singing Mary J. Blige,
And I rip mic’s, like doubled ended spiked dildos rip dykes,
Blur site, with my extra light night vision, precisions tight,
Paying my rent to an FBI agent with fake bills,
Then I get my money back by breaking in through his windowsill,
Chorus x4
Dilated, triple optic cockpit views,
It’s Synz aka Kit with ‘The Bad’ reviews,
I summon up you all to step in my shoes,
Full force smacked back down, all of you loose,
