My War, Your Problem Lyrics
| Song | My War, Your Problem |
| Artist | Weerd Science |
| Album | Friends And Nervous Breakdowns |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Weerd Science | |
| Every one of my lyrics when you hear it it'll burn your face like sulfuric acid | |
| If you're holdin' the microphone | |
| I suggest you pass it. | |
| Hand it over quickly | |
| Sickly is the only way | |
| I know how to drop it | |
| Every time | |
| I kick it people look at me like my name's | |
| Ripley's Believe it or | |
| Not Got a wonderful time slot here at the | |
| Zero Hour | |
| Been laughed at for rappin' ever since | |
| I was a little coward | |
| By all the kids who towered over me | |
| Overpowered me and beat the shit out of my face | |
| Like it's the job clock in an hour | |
| And how are we the ones who powered these machines | |
| And we can't get nothin' done, we controlled by kings and queens | |
| The unseen son, the one in the attic | |
| Hope the dream don't come true | |
| America, she loves you | |
| Without us who would back up the groceries | |
| Or price up the clothes that you normally don't see | |
| On average joes, oh that's me | |
| Little dirtbag rapper and glad to be | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| Every picture you see is a reflection of marketing | |
| The targeting of certain audiences as only a major corporation could | |
| It's simple: | |
| They feed you shit. | |
| Just stop eating it, genius. | |
| Run up in the | |
| Universal | |
| Office and find | |
| Doug Morris | |
| Pound him in his office, his life ain't real pretty | |
| Like bitches that sing choruses | |
| These forces are forcin' us to try to relate | |
| In spite of what they lead you to believe in the first place | |
| Can't move in the city 'cause it's packed so tight | |
| Everybody up in my business, dissin' the lyrics | |
| I write Dismissin' my raps off their shoulder like the never happened | |
| Actin' so thuggish like they tough like | |
| Tinactin It's rubbish, it's all bubble gum to me | |
| Nobody bumpin' me stoppin' by your record company | |
| I'ma flatten | |
| MC's with platinum | |
| CDs You see these two fists? | |
| They each got | |
| MT Tons of | |
| Budweiser, got balls of steel wire | |
| Like a sidewalk and supposedly ya'll are keepin' it real | |
| But mostly ya just provoke and poke at me | |
| And hopefully you remember your jokes to me | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| If rap in you was approved by test audiences you'd see it's got nothin' to do with you. | |
| The real gangstas are old white men putting these records out. | |
| Hip-hop? That's the last thing they give a fuck about. | |
| By any means necessary | |
| I bury an adversary | |
| Every vocal performance it's important to stary vary | |
| If you wanna feed all then you got motorcall | |
| And I'm on the line, we can meet at the grassy knoll at ten | |
| Maybe rap was never hip-hop to them | |
| Seems like it's just a cash crop to them | |
| So don't claim you spit it proper then | |
| This war must never end | |
| I can no longer pretend to be down | |
| If I die in a battle that's fine | |
| I got a potion named | |
| Revolution number 9 | |
| I got a heart that beats for the art | |
| This is hip-hop for the love | |
| Not a 1 on the charts | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war |
| zuo qu : Weerd Science | |
| Every one of my lyrics when you hear it it' ll burn your face like sulfuric acid | |
| If you' re holdin' the microphone | |
| I suggest you pass it. | |
| Hand it over quickly | |
| Sickly is the only way | |
| I know how to drop it | |
| Every time | |
| I kick it people look at me like my name' s | |
| Ripley' s Believe it or | |
| Not Got a wonderful time slot here at the | |
| Zero Hour | |
| Been laughed at for rappin' ever since | |
| I was a little coward | |
| By all the kids who towered over me | |
| Overpowered me and beat the shit out of my face | |
| Like it' s the job clock in an hour | |
| And how are we the ones who powered these machines | |
| And we can' t get nothin' done, we controlled by kings and queens | |
| The unseen son, the one in the attic | |
| Hope the dream don' t come true | |
| America, she loves you | |
| Without us who would back up the groceries | |
| Or price up the clothes that you normally don' t see | |
| On average joes, oh that' s me | |
| Little dirtbag rapper and glad to be | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| Every picture you see is a reflection of marketing | |
| The targeting of certain audiences as only a major corporation could | |
| It' s simple: | |
| They feed you shit. | |
| Just stop eating it, genius. | |
| Run up in the | |
| Universal | |
| Office and find | |
| Doug Morris | |
| Pound him in his office, his life ain' t real pretty | |
| Like bitches that sing choruses | |
| These forces are forcin' us to try to relate | |
| In spite of what they lead you to believe in the first place | |
| Can' t move in the city ' cause it' s packed so tight | |
| Everybody up in my business, dissin' the lyrics | |
| I write Dismissin' my raps off their shoulder like the never happened | |
| Actin' so thuggish like they tough like | |
| Tinactin It' s rubbish, it' s all bubble gum to me | |
| Nobody bumpin' me stoppin' by your record company | |
| I' ma flatten | |
| MC' s with platinum | |
| CDs You see these two fists? | |
| They each got | |
| MT Tons of | |
| Budweiser, got balls of steel wire | |
| Like a sidewalk and supposedly ya' ll are keepin' it real | |
| But mostly ya just provoke and poke at me | |
| And hopefully you remember your jokes to me | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| If rap in you was approved by test audiences you' d see it' s got nothin' to do with you. | |
| The real gangstas are old white men putting these records out. | |
| Hip-hop? That' s the last thing they give a fuck about. | |
| By any means necessary | |
| I bury an adversary | |
| Every vocal performance it' s important to stary vary | |
| If you wanna feed all then you got motorcall | |
| And I' m on the line, we can meet at the grassy knoll at ten | |
| Maybe rap was never hip-hop to them | |
| Seems like it' s just a cash crop to them | |
| So don' t claim you spit it proper then | |
| This war must never end | |
| I can no longer pretend to be down | |
| If I die in a battle that' s fine | |
| I got a potion named | |
| Revolution number 9 | |
| I got a heart that beats for the art | |
| This is hip-hop for the love | |
| Not a 1 on the charts | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war |
| zuò qǔ : Weerd Science | |
| Every one of my lyrics when you hear it it' ll burn your face like sulfuric acid | |
| If you' re holdin' the microphone | |
| I suggest you pass it. | |
| Hand it over quickly | |
| Sickly is the only way | |
| I know how to drop it | |
| Every time | |
| I kick it people look at me like my name' s | |
| Ripley' s Believe it or | |
| Not Got a wonderful time slot here at the | |
| Zero Hour | |
| Been laughed at for rappin' ever since | |
| I was a little coward | |
| By all the kids who towered over me | |
| Overpowered me and beat the shit out of my face | |
| Like it' s the job clock in an hour | |
| And how are we the ones who powered these machines | |
| And we can' t get nothin' done, we controlled by kings and queens | |
| The unseen son, the one in the attic | |
| Hope the dream don' t come true | |
| America, she loves you | |
| Without us who would back up the groceries | |
| Or price up the clothes that you normally don' t see | |
| On average joes, oh that' s me | |
| Little dirtbag rapper and glad to be | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| Every picture you see is a reflection of marketing | |
| The targeting of certain audiences as only a major corporation could | |
| It' s simple: | |
| They feed you shit. | |
| Just stop eating it, genius. | |
| Run up in the | |
| Universal | |
| Office and find | |
| Doug Morris | |
| Pound him in his office, his life ain' t real pretty | |
| Like bitches that sing choruses | |
| These forces are forcin' us to try to relate | |
| In spite of what they lead you to believe in the first place | |
| Can' t move in the city ' cause it' s packed so tight | |
| Everybody up in my business, dissin' the lyrics | |
| I write Dismissin' my raps off their shoulder like the never happened | |
| Actin' so thuggish like they tough like | |
| Tinactin It' s rubbish, it' s all bubble gum to me | |
| Nobody bumpin' me stoppin' by your record company | |
| I' ma flatten | |
| MC' s with platinum | |
| CDs You see these two fists? | |
| They each got | |
| MT Tons of | |
| Budweiser, got balls of steel wire | |
| Like a sidewalk and supposedly ya' ll are keepin' it real | |
| But mostly ya just provoke and poke at me | |
| And hopefully you remember your jokes to me | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| If rap in you was approved by test audiences you' d see it' s got nothin' to do with you. | |
| The real gangstas are old white men putting these records out. | |
| Hip-hop? That' s the last thing they give a fuck about. | |
| By any means necessary | |
| I bury an adversary | |
| Every vocal performance it' s important to stary vary | |
| If you wanna feed all then you got motorcall | |
| And I' m on the line, we can meet at the grassy knoll at ten | |
| Maybe rap was never hip-hop to them | |
| Seems like it' s just a cash crop to them | |
| So don' t claim you spit it proper then | |
| This war must never end | |
| I can no longer pretend to be down | |
| If I die in a battle that' s fine | |
| I got a potion named | |
| Revolution number 9 | |
| I got a heart that beats for the art | |
| This is hip-hop for the love | |
| Not a 1 on the charts | |
| I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition | |
| I keep on spittin' but no one listens | |
| I must drop fire, | |
| I can not wait for a fall | |
| This is our only hope, this is a war | |
| This is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war | |
| This is a war, this is a war |
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