Free download
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,302
Peak in subgenre #697
Author
Zickz
Rights
Zickz
Uploaded
July 26, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
[Hook]x2
Does this wordsmith deserve this or should I focus on nerd kids//
& leave the locus chokin' on birdshit for every word missed//
I murder heards of heads that perfer death to the words left
in the english language, until you wish you never heard this//
(Verse 1)
I'm the master back-tracking, blasting back at them//
to stop slackin' ass backpackers relaxing//
Thinking that my tracks just ain't happening//
my ass passes so fast your jogging when I walk past laughing//
I'm "Action-Jackson" engineering or mastering//
I don't have a 'friend' so when I crash your the only one that feels the accident//
So pass the pen, you ain't lasting in this game//
I already smashed the glass so I dont have to master pain//
I wont be asked again, so you heads wont have to HAVE a frame//
and every emcee seen in this scene will JUST seem the same//
You must be thinking this man's been, popped outta his rocker//
locked outta my locker, You can call me a pop-up shit-talkin hip-hopper//
that stopped buying stock. cuz my boss was like; "stop lying stalker!"//
using music to abuse chicks and
drowned out there screams, just doesnt work for me//
"It slows down my system..." like when it hurts to pee//
[Hook]x2
I'm unsuitable, unusable, simply in abuse-able//
its fusible, you cats can't be down this ain't a musical//
Amusible, stuck in my head like in a cubicle//
my distribution ain't disputable, I'm not reviewable//
I seem to be renewable, refreshing like clean air//
but don't you dare stop to stare, turn around or pay the fair//
I rap solo like solitaire, so no-ones there to compare//
On contrare I know I'm rare the flow is here I spit to spare//
with wet wear// I ride the beat like Noahs arc//
I'm a gift to art, looking for the right rift to start//
you can come with one pun, but you must admit your smart//
you always miss the mark like trying to piss in the dark//
I'll ship you a heart, so you can find the beat//
see you can't compete, count to three when you meet the street//
I mince the meat and rinse the street and linch the teens with fatal genes//
who cringe like a cradle in the fetal, tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee//
[Hook]x2
[Free Verse - USE IT & SHOW ME!]
[Hook]x2
