Song picture
Deep Thinker
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my second solo track, made the beat, recorded myself, editted it, the intro is courtesy of 'snatch'
hell weed dirty south horrorcore juggalo evil psychopathic blunt force blunt force phat kris claydro
Artist picture
blunt force, blunt, force, weed, phat kris, claydro, horrorcore, juggalo, psychopathic, dirty south, evil, hell
Blunt Force Studio ============= pumpin out the music no one else can. that evil dirty south, psychopathic, horrorcore shit
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop Hardcore Rap
Charts
Peak #4,600
Peak in subgenre #684
Author
Phat Kris
Rights
2005
Uploaded
April 12, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.7 MB 128 kbps 2:55
Story behind the song
i got tired of spittin bout nothin but smokin weed all the time, had been recordin alot of shit with joey babbage, and he was turning into some straight babbage. just tired and played out, so i struck off, made a decent beat, and wrote 3 verses that at that time were in my opinion the hardest, best sounding i had ever written.
Lyrics
verse 1: yo 24/7, and 365, i'm reppin EMB, till the mother fuckin day i die; when i'm dead and gone, ya'll can bury me in the east, cuz that's where i'ma comin from, and that's where i'ma rest in peace; memphis streets are so hard, you can't tell me yours are harder, weak hoes don't be runnin mouth, ya in da deepend of the water; lyrically can't fuck with me, cuz ya gone get slaughtered, get on ya own track bitch, if you think your raps are smarter; got folks tryin to steal my flows, don't act like you's no martyr, i always keep my game face on, like samuel l's coach carter; ain't no bench warmer, i'm an underground starter, and i'm mushin like a husky, always pushin ten times harder; hook: they call me a deep thinka, on the track, my mind i speaka, this a sermon, i'm your preacha, betta listen what i'ma teach ya (x 2) verse 2: there's plenty playas comin up ,this dirty south be blowin up, and blunt force is showin up, every last one you chumps; i'ma lock ya in the trunk, wit duct tape i'll tie ya up, you're in a comatose state, so i turn down the bump; let the beat gone build back up, stop the car and pop the trunk, hit ya wit that double buck, watch yo body start to slump; then i take ya to the dump, make sure yo body's fully sunk, shovellin dirt, till the last clump- ground look like a camel's hump; i dunno what ya'll sayin,but ya'll ain't assassinatin, only bitches do the hatin, blunt force trick- and we stayin; cleaver in your fuckin flesh, barrels to the back yo chest, asphyxiate ya like the rest, ya shouldn't have fucked with the best; hook: they call me a deep thinka,on the track, my mind i speaka, this a sermon, i'm your preacha, betta listen what i'ma teach ya (x 2) verse 3: ain't spittin no falsities, i speak from my atrocities, if ya'll don't like it- suck on these, but ya'll gonna have to pay the fee; poppin off up on the mic, i'll lick the pussy like a dyke, and tell yo man to take a hike, i nail ya wit my railroad spike; cuz ya know these verses hurtin, gone with yo water gun squirtin, the rest of ya haters i'ma murkin, like osama without a turbin; split ya wide just like a surgeon, leave your mouth parched n thirstin, and ya know these verses burstin, like ya earhole was a virgin; i'ma bust a thousand verses, then ya'll tell me who the worst is, ridin by in tinted hearses, devil music round yo churches; like the adams' got the lurchness, i'ma leave ya feelin worthless, took yo shit, and now ya shirtless, showin out ain't never worth this hook: they call me a deep thinka,on the track, my mind i speaka, this a sermon, i'm your preacher, betta listen what i'ma teach ya (x2)
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