Song | Latyrx |
Artist | Latyrx |
Album | The Album |
作词 : Daumont, Davis, Shimura | |
Cheyenne! Look at what the liquor brings about, | |
Throw out the magic basket full of wires and let them flail all on the ground. | |
Why do they love it so? | |
Hatched seeds of light supported by light seaward breezes, | |
And we see these orbs in a car chase of sorts, | |
Absorbs sweet Lorraine and her dolly on the front porch and it escorts them into | |
Deep, dark, space around Taurus, | |
And the Mormons can't explain the stars reflectin' in her corneas. | |
It makes they hearts beat hard against they corsets which | |
Bops they lockets up against they foreheads, and- | |
Who was it that sent this little girl's mind up into orbit? | |
She had to forfeit little dolly while in space so that she could touch the stars like torches. | |
Privately, we recorded her, | |
Intimately, yes! We courted her with- | |
"Miss Cinnamon Tea, please rest your itty bitty palms in my- | |
Incandescently glowing hands and infinitely, | |
We will explore your inquisitive tendencies; | |
The intrinsic and the explicit, | |
We won't inhibit any of your inquiry, | |
But first the fire must be met then quenched by you candidly and randomly venting any | |
Thoughts, memories, anything! | |
It's time for you to start channeling what you've been gathering!" | |
So we left gravity, | |
Instantly engulfing Lorraine in a shimmering cavity then, | |
Flattening like an elasticine band that stretches and contorts, | |
And then I'd widen like the space highway spiraling sideways, contract and dilate, | |
Then straighten up at 100 mph then fall on myself in layers like a thickened band of taffy, | |
Assuming every length and shape imaginable, | |
Then I catapulted Lorraine and her stuffed animal into still deeper space, | |
But fathoming what I had actually done and her pace increasing rapidly, | |
I shot out like a javelin after her screams, | |
First matching her speed, then surpassing her, hearing her laughter as I passed her, | |
But the web I spun had not strengthened yet, | |
And the momentum sent them stretching through my intentions, And I popped! | |
Dolly lost. . . . . . . | |
And Lorraine. . . . . .. | |
Plopped back down into her bedroom, | |
And coughed | |
[Lateef:] | |
Born | |
The correlation | |
Relation shapin' | |
The forms | |
Are takin' their stations warned | |
We're warmed | |
The verbal intercourse and mind fornication | |
Is on, whine, design is tight, | |
Corn burn more than blunts | |
Or oil at midnight | |
The clock turns, as it often does | |
Fight it with all ya might scrub | |
Ya learn more if ya listen | |
Timing is more than tic-toc-tickin' | |
Rippin's a mission so come equipped | |
But not with remote clickin's or clips | |
In the nine | |
Ya mind | |
Is fine | |
With me | |
Brother | |
Ya chickens, you caint rhyme | |
And punks react violently | |
But bad men respond silently | |
Later hearing your gone, and the facts while sipping on cognac quitely | |
Privately | |
Commenting on society | |
Modestly, | |
Honestly, | |
Asking why fools even try it | |
When they're undeniably | |
And obviously, | |
Undoubtedly, | |
Decidedly, | |
Wack | |
I strech out and expand | |
In 3-D like | |
Galaxies establishing terrestrial contact, like | |
Roll up the windows, crank the heat, relax recline the seat, | |
And thank Lateef, | |
Take two and pass, | |
Give it a little gas and ask | |
"What's the riddle mean?" | |
Fantastic | |
G E=MC2 don't be sarcastic, my mind moves at the speed of light when blasted | |
Synchopated audiosyncratic madness | |
Concentrated | |
Focused | |
On the rabbit | |
Like I'm rabid, gigantic, teething wolverine | |
Armed with claws that bring murderous tragedies | |
To even human beings burdened with feelings of sadness | |
Ludicrous thang is I'm glad to be the baddest | |
Sittin' fattest after I'm finished lunchin', munchin' em | |
Before that | |
I'm slashin', attackin with rippin' action | |
In sound clashes | |
Bastard I'm the fastest | |
Quick draw | |
Like: western classics | |
BIG JAW, voice cuts like a saw | |
Sprinkling you like Magic | |
As the cataclysm hits | |
Like SMACK | |
Vocabic havoc cracks | |
Your sternum, spine, and scapula | |
Spectacularly | |
Propelling you backwards over the edge | |
Of the track | |
[Lyrics Born:] | |
Now that we have made our way away from the sky apple, | |
You will notice from your new knowledge experience, | |
That the distance from the crust to the mantle to the core, | |
Is much greater than previous measurements, | |
And as lyricists in this time period we experiment with a myriad of new findings, | |
Different from the supposed truths, | |
The ample evidence we presented, | |
It complemented our argument that "everything is impermanent". | |
Not static or at settled standstill as the opposite element has suggested is legitimate, | |
And finally, as a reminder, | |
The precious metals and ores mined for early in the earth's surface sediment, | |
Cannot compare to the infinite introspective splendor, | |
Incentive isn't it? | |
[Lateef:] | |
Yes, yes, yes, YES, well, yes, yes, yes, | |
You're dealing with lyricists that's fresh, fresh, fresh, | |
You wan test surely ya jest, look, lets just get | |
One thing correct before ya step focus on breath, breath, breath, | |
One rep, | |
Breath, breath, breath, | |
Select yet another set of styles? Yup, yup, yep, | |
Each one as hard as erections I got to flex, flex, flex, | |
For project protection I'm collecting text, techs, tex, | |
While you're caught up, | |
Thinking rap is just sex, sex, sex, | |
And more flesh, flesh, flesh, | |
Robbing your soul of its precious sensuousness | |
Most of these rappers are talking shit out of the side of they neck | |
What the heck? | |
It's more and more suckas gettin' signed for less, less, less, and less | |
And lesson 1: if aiming to impress, press, press, | |
You gotta do it yourself | |
Quiet as kept, kept, kept, | |
If my work is respected I collect checks, checks, checks, | |
They cain't all bounce and if they do I got an ounce at the rest | |
So I aint stressin' off that bullshit. | |
[Lyrics Born:] | |
'Cuz I've walked on water weapons baby haven't you heard? | |
I've authored songs on different planes and left the boundaries blurred, | |
And I taught Neanderthal to use the rotary phone, | |
I kicked the devil in his neck without my rosary on. | |
[Lateef:] | |
And I checked out the vampire's nest | |
Sans garlic, dissed his harlots, then without the crucifix | |
Plunged the wooden stake deep inside his chest | |
Pinned him! | |
Thrashing around in the bottom of his sarcophagus | |
Writhing around | |
Till the only thing left, | |
Were little scraps of nothingness | |
Those scattered all about infinity | |
[Lyrics Born:] | |
All different shapes and sizes going wherever | |
[Lateef:] | |
But all of one entity | |
[Lyrics Born:] | |
That I had brought together for my pleasure | |
Watch this now, | |
[Lyrics Born:] | |
Your last dinner in my chamber where I tempered weapons rendered from a rusty Ford fender, | |
You get your steak and eggs, | |
Your Caesar vinaigrette, | |
Savor your cigarette, | |
'Cuz I'ma tape your lips, | |
Become my marionette, | |
You curtsy, pirouette, | |
And when my blade caresses, | |
I scrape my bayonet, | |
You lose your favorite legs, | |
I love that fragrance, | |
Playful Pet! Yes I'm the patron saint of Dangerous, | |
You slaying La-Tyrx? | |
You're driving majorettes, | |
Over some acreage. | |
[Lateef:] | |
As you sit there pensively, tentatively fidgeting with creation | |
But you fuck 'round with this and you'll get aten. | |
[Lateef:] | |
You gettin laid to rest | |
Ain't slayin' Latyrx | |
You gettin laid to rest | |
Over the Sunset's edge |
zuò cí : Daumont, Davis, Shimura | |
Cheyenne! Look at what the liquor brings about, | |
Throw out the magic basket full of wires and let them flail all on the ground. | |
Why do they love it so? | |
Hatched seeds of light supported by light seaward breezes, | |
And we see these orbs in a car chase of sorts, | |
Absorbs sweet Lorraine and her dolly on the front porch and it escorts them into | |
Deep, dark, space around Taurus, | |
And the Mormons can' t explain the stars reflectin' in her corneas. | |
It makes they hearts beat hard against they corsets which | |
Bops they lockets up against they foreheads, and | |
Who was it that sent this little girl' s mind up into orbit? | |
She had to forfeit little dolly while in space so that she could touch the stars like torches. | |
Privately, we recorded her, | |
Intimately, yes! We courted her with | |
" Miss Cinnamon Tea, please rest your itty bitty palms in my | |
Incandescently glowing hands and infinitely, | |
We will explore your inquisitive tendencies | |
The intrinsic and the explicit, | |
We won' t inhibit any of your inquiry, | |
But first the fire must be met then quenched by you candidly and randomly venting any | |
Thoughts, memories, anything! | |
It' s time for you to start channeling what you' ve been gathering!" | |
So we left gravity, | |
Instantly engulfing Lorraine in a shimmering cavity then, | |
Flattening like an elasticine band that stretches and contorts, | |
And then I' d widen like the space highway spiraling sideways, contract and dilate, | |
Then straighten up at 100 mph then fall on myself in layers like a thickened band of taffy, | |
Assuming every length and shape imaginable, | |
Then I catapulted Lorraine and her stuffed animal into still deeper space, | |
But fathoming what I had actually done and her pace increasing rapidly, | |
I shot out like a javelin after her screams, | |
First matching her speed, then surpassing her, hearing her laughter as I passed her, | |
But the web I spun had not strengthened yet, | |
And the momentum sent them stretching through my intentions, And I popped! | |
Dolly lost. . . . . . . | |
And Lorraine. . . . . .. | |
Plopped back down into her bedroom, | |
And coughed | |
Lateef: | |
Born | |
The correlation | |
Relation shapin' | |
The forms | |
Are takin' their stations warned | |
We' re warmed | |
The verbal intercourse and mind fornication | |
Is on, whine, design is tight, | |
Corn burn more than blunts | |
Or oil at midnight | |
The clock turns, as it often does | |
Fight it with all ya might scrub | |
Ya learn more if ya listen | |
Timing is more than tictoctickin' | |
Rippin' s a mission so come equipped | |
But not with remote clickin' s or clips | |
In the nine | |
Ya mind | |
Is fine | |
With me | |
Brother | |
Ya chickens, you caint rhyme | |
And punks react violently | |
But bad men respond silently | |
Later hearing your gone, and the facts while sipping on cognac quitely | |
Privately | |
Commenting on society | |
Modestly, | |
Honestly, | |
Asking why fools even try it | |
When they' re undeniably | |
And obviously, | |
Undoubtedly, | |
Decidedly, | |
Wack | |
I strech out and expand | |
In 3D like | |
Galaxies establishing terrestrial contact, like | |
Roll up the windows, crank the heat, relax recline the seat, | |
And thank Lateef, | |
Take two and pass, | |
Give it a little gas and ask | |
" What' s the riddle mean?" | |
Fantastic | |
G E MC2 don' t be sarcastic, my mind moves at the speed of light when blasted | |
Synchopated audiosyncratic madness | |
Concentrated | |
Focused | |
On the rabbit | |
Like I' m rabid, gigantic, teething wolverine | |
Armed with claws that bring murderous tragedies | |
To even human beings burdened with feelings of sadness | |
Ludicrous thang is I' m glad to be the baddest | |
Sittin' fattest after I' m finished lunchin', munchin' em | |
Before that | |
I' m slashin', attackin with rippin' action | |
In sound clashes | |
Bastard I' m the fastest | |
Quick draw | |
Like: western classics | |
BIG JAW, voice cuts like a saw | |
Sprinkling you like Magic | |
As the cataclysm hits | |
Like SMACK | |
Vocabic havoc cracks | |
Your sternum, spine, and scapula | |
Spectacularly | |
Propelling you backwards over the edge | |
Of the track | |
Lyrics Born: | |
Now that we have made our way away from the sky apple, | |
You will notice from your new knowledge experience, | |
That the distance from the crust to the mantle to the core, | |
Is much greater than previous measurements, | |
And as lyricists in this time period we experiment with a myriad of new findings, | |
Different from the supposed truths, | |
The ample evidence we presented, | |
It complemented our argument that " everything is impermanent". | |
Not static or at settled standstill as the opposite element has suggested is legitimate, | |
And finally, as a reminder, | |
The precious metals and ores mined for early in the earth' s surface sediment, | |
Cannot compare to the infinite introspective splendor, | |
Incentive isn' t it? | |
Lateef: | |
Yes, yes, yes, YES, well, yes, yes, yes, | |
You' re dealing with lyricists that' s fresh, fresh, fresh, | |
You wan test surely ya jest, look, lets just get | |
One thing correct before ya step focus on breath, breath, breath, | |
One rep, | |
Breath, breath, breath, | |
Select yet another set of styles? Yup, yup, yep, | |
Each one as hard as erections I got to flex, flex, flex, | |
For project protection I' m collecting text, techs, tex, | |
While you' re caught up, | |
Thinking rap is just sex, sex, sex, | |
And more flesh, flesh, flesh, | |
Robbing your soul of its precious sensuousness | |
Most of these rappers are talking shit out of the side of they neck | |
What the heck? | |
It' s more and more suckas gettin' signed for less, less, less, and less | |
And lesson 1: if aiming to impress, press, press, | |
You gotta do it yourself | |
Quiet as kept, kept, kept, | |
If my work is respected I collect checks, checks, checks, | |
They cain' t all bounce and if they do I got an ounce at the rest | |
So I aint stressin' off that bullshit. | |
Lyrics Born: | |
' Cuz I' ve walked on water weapons baby haven' t you heard? | |
I' ve authored songs on different planes and left the boundaries blurred, | |
And I taught Neanderthal to use the rotary phone, | |
I kicked the devil in his neck without my rosary on. | |
Lateef: | |
And I checked out the vampire' s nest | |
Sans garlic, dissed his harlots, then without the crucifix | |
Plunged the wooden stake deep inside his chest | |
Pinned him! | |
Thrashing around in the bottom of his sarcophagus | |
Writhing around | |
Till the only thing left, | |
Were little scraps of nothingness | |
Those scattered all about infinity | |
Lyrics Born: | |
All different shapes and sizes going wherever | |
Lateef: | |
But all of one entity | |
Lyrics Born: | |
That I had brought together for my pleasure | |
Watch this now, | |
Lyrics Born: | |
Your last dinner in my chamber where I tempered weapons rendered from a rusty Ford fender, | |
You get your steak and eggs, | |
Your Caesar vinaigrette, | |
Savor your cigarette, | |
' Cuz I' ma tape your lips, | |
Become my marionette, | |
You curtsy, pirouette, | |
And when my blade caresses, | |
I scrape my bayonet, | |
You lose your favorite legs, | |
I love that fragrance, | |
Playful Pet! Yes I' m the patron saint of Dangerous, | |
You slaying LaTyrx? | |
You' re driving majorettes, | |
Over some acreage. | |
Lateef: | |
As you sit there pensively, tentatively fidgeting with creation | |
But you fuck ' round with this and you' ll get aten. | |
Lateef: | |
You gettin laid to rest | |
Ain' t slayin' Latyrx | |
You gettin laid to rest | |
Over the Sunset' s edge |