Song | Nubian Metal |
Artist | Blacastan |
Artist | Stu Bangas |
Album | Watson & Holmes |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Stuart Hudgins | |
[Verse 1: Celph Titled] | |
I'm straight jacking in a straight jacket, letting gats flare | |
My crib not the Player's Club but got plenty MACs there | |
Slip scripts like pill mills, we the real deal rapper slappers | |
Get a toe tag and black bag to match it | |
Took your girl but it's a'ight, she call me "papa bear" | |
Your studio makes bubble raps so we can get it popping there | |
When I'm an Hennessy fiend I like to flash that semi thing | |
And cook the biscuit like Jimmy Dean | |
Break in your house while you sleep, yeah this dude's scary | |
Put a pillow over your teeth like the Tooth Fairy | |
Now all I see is a flurry of feathers (What else?) | |
A dead mother****er and a smoking Beretta | |
They say, "Celph wild, he be eating flesh" | |
But I don't ever die I'm a crash test dummy with GPS | |
Give a **** if you a Folk or a Crip | |
The smoke stack from this bomber'll cause a solar eclipse | |
[Hook: Blacastan] | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There's no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
"Lord have mercy" | |
**** outta here | |
[Verse 2: Vinnie Paz] | |
You like Heaven, I like Hell | |
Y'all ain't got no bars you like a dead cell | |
I'm Seamus Ryan in '97, ya head swell | |
Round the whole entire Army up and set sail | |
I ain't know a human being could be that frail | |
That pussy and that suckerish, that stale | |
I ain't know it was wackness on such a vast scale | |
I ain't notice the tragicness of the rat's tail | |
I had to fight through adversity like a black male | |
I had to perform a surgery with the black nail | |
I can see the uncertainty through a black veil | |
I bleed blood that's burgundy, you's is pastel | |
(Some arts and crafts mother****ers) | |
Hard rock, Vinnie crush boulders | |
I've been carrying y'all too long, hunched shoulders | |
Talking 'bout Crystal drinking crushed Foldgers | |
Iron Mike '87 god crush [?] | |
[Hook: Blacastan] | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There's no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
"Lord have mercy" | |
**** outta here | |
[Verse 3: Blacastan] | |
My tools burst, plus the knife work | |
Wanted to hustle but I had to quit school first | |
I made rhyming my life, word to Kool Herc | |
[?] and threw ten right through your shirt | |
Run up in your crib, Rob the Base, that's EZ Rock | |
My disguise, long beard like the ZZ Top | |
Let the beat knock, feel it that's that 80s rock | |
Hit the block with a sock full of crazy rock | |
Moon craters, long guns remove haters | |
Cream joints rolling dust in a doobie paper | |
This that easy writer in a brown package | |
We rap lords, we rhyme masters | |
Leaving niggas laid out like Craftmatics | |
We acknowledge the knowledge god, that's mathematics | |
You can add on or you can build on it | |
If you love your script you can get killed on it | |
I leave bodies where I live like Gacey's crib | |
Crime fiend like the lake where Jason live | |
Horrifying make you convert like Ma\$e done did | |
Making rappers cross over like Jason Kidd |
zuo qu : Stuart Hudgins | |
Verse 1: Celph Titled | |
I' m straight jacking in a straight jacket, letting gats flare | |
My crib not the Player' s Club but got plenty MACs there | |
Slip scripts like pill mills, we the real deal rapper slappers | |
Get a toe tag and black bag to match it | |
Took your girl but it' s a' ight, she call me " papa bear" | |
Your studio makes bubble raps so we can get it popping there | |
When I' m an Hennessy fiend I like to flash that semi thing | |
And cook the biscuit like Jimmy Dean | |
Break in your house while you sleep, yeah this dude' s scary | |
Put a pillow over your teeth like the Tooth Fairy | |
Now all I see is a flurry of feathers What else? | |
A dead mother er and a smoking Beretta | |
They say, " Celph wild, he be eating flesh" | |
But I don' t ever die I' m a crash test dummy with GPS | |
Give a if you a Folk or a Crip | |
The smoke stack from this bomber' ll cause a solar eclipse | |
Hook: Blacastan | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There' s no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
" Lord have mercy" | |
outta here | |
Verse 2: Vinnie Paz | |
You like Heaven, I like Hell | |
Y' all ain' t got no bars you like a dead cell | |
I' m Seamus Ryan in ' 97, ya head swell | |
Round the whole entire Army up and set sail | |
I ain' t know a human being could be that frail | |
That pussy and that suckerish, that stale | |
I ain' t know it was wackness on such a vast scale | |
I ain' t notice the tragicness of the rat' s tail | |
I had to fight through adversity like a black male | |
I had to perform a surgery with the black nail | |
I can see the uncertainty through a black veil | |
I bleed blood that' s burgundy, you' s is pastel | |
Some arts and crafts mother ers | |
Hard rock, Vinnie crush boulders | |
I' ve been carrying y' all too long, hunched shoulders | |
Talking ' bout Crystal drinking crushed Foldgers | |
Iron Mike ' 87 god crush ? | |
Hook: Blacastan | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There' s no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
" Lord have mercy" | |
outta here | |
Verse 3: Blacastan | |
My tools burst, plus the knife work | |
Wanted to hustle but I had to quit school first | |
I made rhyming my life, word to Kool Herc | |
? and threw ten right through your shirt | |
Run up in your crib, Rob the Base, that' s EZ Rock | |
My disguise, long beard like the ZZ Top | |
Let the beat knock, feel it that' s that 80s rock | |
Hit the block with a sock full of crazy rock | |
Moon craters, long guns remove haters | |
Cream joints rolling dust in a doobie paper | |
This that easy writer in a brown package | |
We rap lords, we rhyme masters | |
Leaving niggas laid out like Craftmatics | |
We acknowledge the knowledge god, that' s mathematics | |
You can add on or you can build on it | |
If you love your script you can get killed on it | |
I leave bodies where I live like Gacey' s crib | |
Crime fiend like the lake where Jason live | |
Horrifying make you convert like Ma e done did | |
Making rappers cross over like Jason Kidd |
zuò qǔ : Stuart Hudgins | |
Verse 1: Celph Titled | |
I' m straight jacking in a straight jacket, letting gats flare | |
My crib not the Player' s Club but got plenty MACs there | |
Slip scripts like pill mills, we the real deal rapper slappers | |
Get a toe tag and black bag to match it | |
Took your girl but it' s a' ight, she call me " papa bear" | |
Your studio makes bubble raps so we can get it popping there | |
When I' m an Hennessy fiend I like to flash that semi thing | |
And cook the biscuit like Jimmy Dean | |
Break in your house while you sleep, yeah this dude' s scary | |
Put a pillow over your teeth like the Tooth Fairy | |
Now all I see is a flurry of feathers What else? | |
A dead mother er and a smoking Beretta | |
They say, " Celph wild, he be eating flesh" | |
But I don' t ever die I' m a crash test dummy with GPS | |
Give a if you a Folk or a Crip | |
The smoke stack from this bomber' ll cause a solar eclipse | |
Hook: Blacastan | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There' s no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
" Lord have mercy" | |
outta here | |
Verse 2: Vinnie Paz | |
You like Heaven, I like Hell | |
Y' all ain' t got no bars you like a dead cell | |
I' m Seamus Ryan in ' 97, ya head swell | |
Round the whole entire Army up and set sail | |
I ain' t know a human being could be that frail | |
That pussy and that suckerish, that stale | |
I ain' t know it was wackness on such a vast scale | |
I ain' t notice the tragicness of the rat' s tail | |
I had to fight through adversity like a black male | |
I had to perform a surgery with the black nail | |
I can see the uncertainty through a black veil | |
I bleed blood that' s burgundy, you' s is pastel | |
Some arts and crafts mother ers | |
Hard rock, Vinnie crush boulders | |
I' ve been carrying y' all too long, hunched shoulders | |
Talking ' bout Crystal drinking crushed Foldgers | |
Iron Mike ' 87 god crush ? | |
Hook: Blacastan | |
Nubian metal | |
Forever war beef never settle | |
Cock it back and let it bark like Pits in the kennel | |
There' s no love here, only warfare | |
Letting heads roll, we never fought fair | |
" Lord have mercy" | |
outta here | |
Verse 3: Blacastan | |
My tools burst, plus the knife work | |
Wanted to hustle but I had to quit school first | |
I made rhyming my life, word to Kool Herc | |
? and threw ten right through your shirt | |
Run up in your crib, Rob the Base, that' s EZ Rock | |
My disguise, long beard like the ZZ Top | |
Let the beat knock, feel it that' s that 80s rock | |
Hit the block with a sock full of crazy rock | |
Moon craters, long guns remove haters | |
Cream joints rolling dust in a doobie paper | |
This that easy writer in a brown package | |
We rap lords, we rhyme masters | |
Leaving niggas laid out like Craftmatics | |
We acknowledge the knowledge god, that' s mathematics | |
You can add on or you can build on it | |
If you love your script you can get killed on it | |
I leave bodies where I live like Gacey' s crib | |
Crime fiend like the lake where Jason live | |
Horrifying make you convert like Ma e done did | |
Making rappers cross over like Jason Kidd |