Song | That Ain't Life (Climax) |
Artist | Souls of Mischief |
Album | Trilogy: Conflict, Climax, Resolution |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
Yeah | |
Push the button and the planet blows | |
That ain't right | |
Niggas be actin' like animals | |
That ain't right | |
Bustin' cannons when they brandish those | |
That ain't right | |
Put the mayor in a stranglehold | |
That ain't right | |
[a-plus] | |
What? my firm is intense | |
Leave permanent imprints | |
A nigga was a infant when | |
I learned i was gifted | |
Knew i'd be eternally lifted when i get my turn to rip it | |
Certainly did and we still in the shit | |
We forever increase and never decease | |
Saliva flips when a geek endeavor to speak | |
Whenever plea and the four horsemen | |
Kick your doors in | |
You shiverin' | |
Like a drunk nigga with no mo gin | |
One more again | |
Rollin' with the sons of the sun | |
I got love when i come | |
Put away your gun that's dumb | |
Whe ain't sissy nigga my folks got some | |
But i never the one that want to be ****in' up the fun | |
Cause i rather have some female company rubbin' me | |
Sippin?bubbly lookin' lovely in front of me hah | |
Then i ride out to the hiero hideout | |
And my lady friends slide out | |
Garments regardless if i turn the light out | |
[a-plus] | |
That ain't right, that ain't right! | |
Curse like a gat burst | |
That ain't right | |
Ride to church in a black hearse | |
That ain't right | |
Roamin' the turf on a crack search | |
That ain't right | |
[opio] | |
It all radio music, corny as the rockettes | |
Mindless sex objects make the cock get rock hard | |
So you can concentrate or see what next | |
While they spray the pollutants | |
And lock down your district and send in lieutenants | |
Shootin?up your boulevard while you was watchin?mtv | |
Double connect pinched caught you slippin' instantly | |
You was a prisioner they plottin' on your seeds | |
Souls of mischief is different we operate on thieves they panic more | |
Sniff 'em out like black labradors | |
Battle ram doors crackin' down on your headquarters | |
Avalanche yours 'til you're buried alive | |
Your homie barely survived the rest is dead caught up | |
Haters want my head shot up so i'm preparin' to fight | |
Whether aryan knights or sherriffs of vice | |
Nigga i'm equipped like a terrorist to tear up shit right | |
[som] | |
In life everything's fair | |
That ain't right | |
That's way a nigga don't share | |
That ain't right | |
Your girl left you for a square | |
That ain't right | |
And now you see him everywhere | |
That ain't right | |
Man i'm hella broke and jobless | |
That ain't right | |
My sister does mornin' topless | |
That ain't right | |
The lied to us and robbed us | |
That ain't right | |
And if you ain't livin' right | |
That's death that ain't life | |
[phesto dee] | |
As they come in to great depths | |
We surpass the summit | |
Stranglin' rhythmic arrangement elements transpose and plummet | |
I take it back to my roots, vast and infinite | |
Composition is crafted intricate, jazz i rip it & | |
Passion indica, smash your syndicate | |
Before they can ask for sentiments and flow tear gas your tenements | |
After i flash the emblem | |
A symbol of the last millenium | |
Who the best boy? | |
Yeah we askin' anyone | |
Peg your chest and | |
Crush your velvet, shatter your pelvic | |
Hard hat or your helmet spin in the cockpit of a plane | |
And the tail spins | |
Still my satin smooth | |
Patented moves raps scat and | |
Scoop fatten the groove flatten your crew | |
Could happened to you | |
Word it's my propensity to cut back | |
Instantly change direction at my point of attack and leave tracks | |
Dilapidated, handicapped and incapacitated | |
When i ex-sling i silk screen these words in your chest | |
Spit the verbal infernal burn mc's like oakland herbal | |
And i do it faster than the grand national & twin turbo | |
With a jose cuervo | |
That ain't right | |
Nah for real though | |
That ain't right | |
[tajai] | |
Prophecy is my offering | |
**** profiting off these profligate tales | |
These mental paupers be proffering | |
I await patiently till the time is proper to propagate | |
My intellectual property | |
Concentrated abated then trick ya and release it | |
In synchronous increments | |
Seemingly seamlessly | |
I'm a semanticist | |
Prayin' like many a mantis is | |
Though i'm not meanderin' answerless | |
Meditation that's my medication | |
Concentration leads to consternation | |
And conceptual inception | |
Interspersed interjections | |
Incite insurmountable insurrections | |
In the urban sections | |
Stretchin' my sharpest weapon | |
Precise etchin's of life's lessons, scaled and detailed to perfection | |
My imagination, the machinations of deceptive perception | |
Come, inspect my collection | |
[som] | |
Man they shootin' at the product | |
That ain't right | |
I left her at the bus stops | |
That ain't right | |
You just a late night option | |
That ain't right | |
Man i would never trust no cop nigga | |
That ain't right | |
I'm getting rich off these tricks | |
That ain't right | |
Man **** that bitch! | |
That ain't right | |
You confused and want to switch | |
That ain't right | |
And if you ain't living right that's death | |
That ain't life | |
Poisonin' our men |
zuo ci : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
Yeah | |
Push the button and the planet blows | |
That ain' t right | |
Niggas be actin' like animals | |
That ain' t right | |
Bustin' cannons when they brandish those | |
That ain' t right | |
Put the mayor in a stranglehold | |
That ain' t right | |
aplus | |
What? my firm is intense | |
Leave permanent imprints | |
A nigga was a infant when | |
I learned i was gifted | |
Knew i' d be eternally lifted when i get my turn to rip it | |
Certainly did and we still in the shit | |
We forever increase and never decease | |
Saliva flips when a geek endeavor to speak | |
Whenever plea and the four horsemen | |
Kick your doors in | |
You shiverin' | |
Like a drunk nigga with no mo gin | |
One more again | |
Rollin' with the sons of the sun | |
I got love when i come | |
Put away your gun that' s dumb | |
Whe ain' t sissy nigga my folks got some | |
But i never the one that want to be in' up the fun | |
Cause i rather have some female company rubbin' me | |
Sippin? bubbly lookin' lovely in front of me hah | |
Then i ride out to the hiero hideout | |
And my lady friends slide out | |
Garments regardless if i turn the light out | |
aplus | |
That ain' t right, that ain' t right! | |
Curse like a gat burst | |
That ain' t right | |
Ride to church in a black hearse | |
That ain' t right | |
Roamin' the turf on a crack search | |
That ain' t right | |
opio | |
It all radio music, corny as the rockettes | |
Mindless sex objects make the cock get rock hard | |
So you can concentrate or see what next | |
While they spray the pollutants | |
And lock down your district and send in lieutenants | |
Shootin? up your boulevard while you was watchin? mtv | |
Double connect pinched caught you slippin' instantly | |
You was a prisioner they plottin' on your seeds | |
Souls of mischief is different we operate on thieves they panic more | |
Sniff ' em out like black labradors | |
Battle ram doors crackin' down on your headquarters | |
Avalanche yours ' til you' re buried alive | |
Your homie barely survived the rest is dead caught up | |
Haters want my head shot up so i' m preparin' to fight | |
Whether aryan knights or sherriffs of vice | |
Nigga i' m equipped like a terrorist to tear up shit right | |
som | |
In life everything' s fair | |
That ain' t right | |
That' s way a nigga don' t share | |
That ain' t right | |
Your girl left you for a square | |
That ain' t right | |
And now you see him everywhere | |
That ain' t right | |
Man i' m hella broke and jobless | |
That ain' t right | |
My sister does mornin' topless | |
That ain' t right | |
The lied to us and robbed us | |
That ain' t right | |
And if you ain' t livin' right | |
That' s death that ain' t life | |
phesto dee | |
As they come in to great depths | |
We surpass the summit | |
Stranglin' rhythmic arrangement elements transpose and plummet | |
I take it back to my roots, vast and infinite | |
Composition is crafted intricate, jazz i rip it | |
Passion indica, smash your syndicate | |
Before they can ask for sentiments and flow tear gas your tenements | |
After i flash the emblem | |
A symbol of the last millenium | |
Who the best boy? | |
Yeah we askin' anyone | |
Peg your chest and | |
Crush your velvet, shatter your pelvic | |
Hard hat or your helmet spin in the cockpit of a plane | |
And the tail spins | |
Still my satin smooth | |
Patented moves raps scat and | |
Scoop fatten the groove flatten your crew | |
Could happened to you | |
Word it' s my propensity to cut back | |
Instantly change direction at my point of attack and leave tracks | |
Dilapidated, handicapped and incapacitated | |
When i exsling i silk screen these words in your chest | |
Spit the verbal infernal burn mc' s like oakland herbal | |
And i do it faster than the grand national twin turbo | |
With a jose cuervo | |
That ain' t right | |
Nah for real though | |
That ain' t right | |
tajai | |
Prophecy is my offering | |
profiting off these profligate tales | |
These mental paupers be proffering | |
I await patiently till the time is proper to propagate | |
My intellectual property | |
Concentrated abated then trick ya and release it | |
In synchronous increments | |
Seemingly seamlessly | |
I' m a semanticist | |
Prayin' like many a mantis is | |
Though i' m not meanderin' answerless | |
Meditation that' s my medication | |
Concentration leads to consternation | |
And conceptual inception | |
Interspersed interjections | |
Incite insurmountable insurrections | |
In the urban sections | |
Stretchin' my sharpest weapon | |
Precise etchin' s of life' s lessons, scaled and detailed to perfection | |
My imagination, the machinations of deceptive perception | |
Come, inspect my collection | |
som | |
Man they shootin' at the product | |
That ain' t right | |
I left her at the bus stops | |
That ain' t right | |
You just a late night option | |
That ain' t right | |
Man i would never trust no cop nigga | |
That ain' t right | |
I' m getting rich off these tricks | |
That ain' t right | |
Man that bitch! | |
That ain' t right | |
You confused and want to switch | |
That ain' t right | |
And if you ain' t living right that' s death | |
That ain' t life | |
Poisonin' our men |
zuò cí : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
Yeah | |
Push the button and the planet blows | |
That ain' t right | |
Niggas be actin' like animals | |
That ain' t right | |
Bustin' cannons when they brandish those | |
That ain' t right | |
Put the mayor in a stranglehold | |
That ain' t right | |
aplus | |
What? my firm is intense | |
Leave permanent imprints | |
A nigga was a infant when | |
I learned i was gifted | |
Knew i' d be eternally lifted when i get my turn to rip it | |
Certainly did and we still in the shit | |
We forever increase and never decease | |
Saliva flips when a geek endeavor to speak | |
Whenever plea and the four horsemen | |
Kick your doors in | |
You shiverin' | |
Like a drunk nigga with no mo gin | |
One more again | |
Rollin' with the sons of the sun | |
I got love when i come | |
Put away your gun that' s dumb | |
Whe ain' t sissy nigga my folks got some | |
But i never the one that want to be in' up the fun | |
Cause i rather have some female company rubbin' me | |
Sippin? bubbly lookin' lovely in front of me hah | |
Then i ride out to the hiero hideout | |
And my lady friends slide out | |
Garments regardless if i turn the light out | |
aplus | |
That ain' t right, that ain' t right! | |
Curse like a gat burst | |
That ain' t right | |
Ride to church in a black hearse | |
That ain' t right | |
Roamin' the turf on a crack search | |
That ain' t right | |
opio | |
It all radio music, corny as the rockettes | |
Mindless sex objects make the cock get rock hard | |
So you can concentrate or see what next | |
While they spray the pollutants | |
And lock down your district and send in lieutenants | |
Shootin? up your boulevard while you was watchin? mtv | |
Double connect pinched caught you slippin' instantly | |
You was a prisioner they plottin' on your seeds | |
Souls of mischief is different we operate on thieves they panic more | |
Sniff ' em out like black labradors | |
Battle ram doors crackin' down on your headquarters | |
Avalanche yours ' til you' re buried alive | |
Your homie barely survived the rest is dead caught up | |
Haters want my head shot up so i' m preparin' to fight | |
Whether aryan knights or sherriffs of vice | |
Nigga i' m equipped like a terrorist to tear up shit right | |
som | |
In life everything' s fair | |
That ain' t right | |
That' s way a nigga don' t share | |
That ain' t right | |
Your girl left you for a square | |
That ain' t right | |
And now you see him everywhere | |
That ain' t right | |
Man i' m hella broke and jobless | |
That ain' t right | |
My sister does mornin' topless | |
That ain' t right | |
The lied to us and robbed us | |
That ain' t right | |
And if you ain' t livin' right | |
That' s death that ain' t life | |
phesto dee | |
As they come in to great depths | |
We surpass the summit | |
Stranglin' rhythmic arrangement elements transpose and plummet | |
I take it back to my roots, vast and infinite | |
Composition is crafted intricate, jazz i rip it | |
Passion indica, smash your syndicate | |
Before they can ask for sentiments and flow tear gas your tenements | |
After i flash the emblem | |
A symbol of the last millenium | |
Who the best boy? | |
Yeah we askin' anyone | |
Peg your chest and | |
Crush your velvet, shatter your pelvic | |
Hard hat or your helmet spin in the cockpit of a plane | |
And the tail spins | |
Still my satin smooth | |
Patented moves raps scat and | |
Scoop fatten the groove flatten your crew | |
Could happened to you | |
Word it' s my propensity to cut back | |
Instantly change direction at my point of attack and leave tracks | |
Dilapidated, handicapped and incapacitated | |
When i exsling i silk screen these words in your chest | |
Spit the verbal infernal burn mc' s like oakland herbal | |
And i do it faster than the grand national twin turbo | |
With a jose cuervo | |
That ain' t right | |
Nah for real though | |
That ain' t right | |
tajai | |
Prophecy is my offering | |
profiting off these profligate tales | |
These mental paupers be proffering | |
I await patiently till the time is proper to propagate | |
My intellectual property | |
Concentrated abated then trick ya and release it | |
In synchronous increments | |
Seemingly seamlessly | |
I' m a semanticist | |
Prayin' like many a mantis is | |
Though i' m not meanderin' answerless | |
Meditation that' s my medication | |
Concentration leads to consternation | |
And conceptual inception | |
Interspersed interjections | |
Incite insurmountable insurrections | |
In the urban sections | |
Stretchin' my sharpest weapon | |
Precise etchin' s of life' s lessons, scaled and detailed to perfection | |
My imagination, the machinations of deceptive perception | |
Come, inspect my collection | |
som | |
Man they shootin' at the product | |
That ain' t right | |
I left her at the bus stops | |
That ain' t right | |
You just a late night option | |
That ain' t right | |
Man i would never trust no cop nigga | |
That ain' t right | |
I' m getting rich off these tricks | |
That ain' t right | |
Man that bitch! | |
That ain' t right | |
You confused and want to switch | |
That ain' t right | |
And if you ain' t living right that' s death | |
That ain' t life | |
Poisonin' our men |