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Strangeulation III |
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(Verse 1: Wrekonize) |
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Wrapped in XLR cables |
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Up from my whiskers, down to my ****in' kicks |
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Wreck-O was echoed in Gordon Geckos, you suckin' di*k |
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Nobody be askin' me for secrets, I ain't chuckin' tips |
| [00:18.60] |
I'd rather be bumpin' hips on that ratchet with muffin **** |
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Tore up the limits from Britain visions would rock their lives |
| [00:23.91] |
Inside a prison where giddy ******* don't jock the rhyme |
| [00:26.63] |
Born in precision and rhythm spittin' could swat a fly |
| [00:29.27] |
For them to just kick a single shillings from Spotify |
| [00:31.96] |
Bye, Bye killers, on a high five business |
| [00:34.22] |
Gonna ride by the sickest in your high ride to the hitlist |
| [00:37.03] |
If we ain't spoke in ages then miss me with broken favors |
| [00:39.46] |
You Miley Cyrus to majors, you twerkin' on swollen razors (run now) |
| [00:42.96] |
Don't make me come to dinner, nail your tongue down |
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And have you plead your case to us in Strangeland at sundown |
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Be careful of the biz cause everything has got a price attached |
| [00:50.42] |
Wake up with a horse head in your bed and next your life is snatched |
| [00:53.26] |
(Verse 2: Bernz) |
| [00:54.58] |
Tank full of petrol, bank full of pesos |
| [00:57.19] |
Pool on my tour bus, bonus on a payroll |
| [00:59.88] |
Feel like I be killin' it, famous on the internet |
| [01:02.51] |
Really I'm just wingin' it, cookin' sh*t on my kitchenette |
| [01:05.25] |
Life so good right now, I need to celebrate! |
| [01:07.85] |
Bout to sell a stadium out and turn it into rave! |
| [01:10.49] |
Look at how the industry norm has started lookin' Strange |
| [01:13.12] |
All my brothers riding the storm while they just ride the wave |
| [01:15.81] |
Caviar wishes, bi*ches for my bi*ches |
| [01:18.43] |
Black shades and hoodies and spots and white linens |
| [01:21.11] |
Feel like Sam Kinison, preachin' to the citizens |
| [01:23.74] |
Screamin' at the saints, "You ain't ever gonna get rid of us!" |
| [01:26.43] |
Guessin' I just cleaned my plate so now I'm gettin' cake |
| [01:29.06] |
Speedin' down the interstate, yellin' "Get out the ****in' way" |
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We plant flags in the ground because we here to stand |
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I bring my whole hood out and have my own parade |
| [01:37.25] |
(Verse 3: Kutt Calhoun) (Black Gold!) |
| [01:38.19] |
I purposely wrote this verse just to murder, dismember, defecate |
| [01:41.06] |
Disassemble the limbs of a ni**a who try and separate |
| [01:43.70] |
Artistry from nonfiction, I'm sent with a conviction |
| [01:46.34] |
To sentence you pawns givin' opinions on my addiction |
| [01:49.52] |
"There he goes, speakin' bout how he merk a beat" |
| [01:51.60] |
"Smellin' himself, why else would he flaunt about it so verbally?" |
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Dance around me like I was a paraplegic |
| [01:56.41] |
In a do-si-do competition, lookin' pissed like I never heard of feet |
| [02:00.09] |
"Yadda, yadda", a whole lotta yappin' about my rappin' |
| [02:02.58] |
When I'm the captain of crunchin' you ni**as' milky dreams |
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I'm the comparison of Pac face staring in your face |
| [02:08.30] |
Mock razor blades, Kutt leave you crispy clean |
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Don't ask Tech, ask me if it's questions |
| [02:13.06] |
Guarantee that he tell you that I'm the best and I'm destined |
| [02:15.69] |
To find a snake and a bat, helpin' Kansas City's progression |
| [02:18.28] |
Hopin' I hurt the feelings of whoever second guessed it cause |
| [02:21.16] |
Everybody talkin', I'mma make you ni**as hear me |
| [02:23.83] |
Mind control flow, now, listen till your ears bleed |
| [02:26.93] |
(Verse 4: Ubiquitous) |
| [02:27.52] |
Spit it sicker than these sycophants, keep your di*k up in your pants |
| [02:30.57] |
You were blunted on the block, me, I had some different plans |
| [02:33.42] |
I'm trying to get to France, sniffing grams, hit a branch |
| [02:35.89] |
Independent Powerhouse, vibin' out, wit' the fam |
| [02:38.50] |
Waking up in different cities every night, hittin' grants |
| [02:41.25] |
Stay prepared for this, I'm bearing witness to the sin of man |
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Stripper dance with cinnamon, clubbin' with my gentlemen |
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Drink away the night's events, nothing worth remembering |
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Squad'll run up in this bi*ch, mobbin' like some immigrants |
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Jack you for your paper stack, rob you of your innocence |
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Taping off the scene of crimes, swabbing for my fingerprints |
| [02:57.13] |
Thought about my life, you thought the same and couldn't think of sh*t |
| [03:00.29] |
Ha! This type of fire don't extinguish |
| [03:02.57] |
Now write about some bigger sh*t, you striking out, swing and miss |
| [03:05.39] |
Ring around the Rosie, homie, pocket full of pain |
| [03:07.51] |
Keep a lock up on my lane and triple optic in my brain, look |
| [03:10.59] |
|
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(Ringing) |
| [03:14.34] |
Ubiquitous: "Yeah, what up?" |
| [03:15.00] |
N9ne: "Ubi?" |
| [03:15.61] |
Ubiquitous: "What's going on man?" |
| [03:16.46] |
N9ne: "Hold on...Travis is calling me, hold up." |
| [03:20.15] |
N9ne: "What up, Trav?" |
| [03:21.31] |
Travis: "What up man, I'm outside right now." |
| [03:22.93] |
N9ne: "Okay, here I come." |
| [03:24.40] |
Travis: "Alright." |
| [03:25.00] |
N9ne: "Peace. Ubi! You got the bi*ches number from...So and so?" |
| [03:29.10] |
Ubi: "From what? What, which bi*ch?" |
| [03:30.72] |
N9ne: "That redheaded bi*ch from...dadadadada." |
| [03:32.89] |
Ubi: "Oh, yeah yeah yeah. Want me to text it to you?" |
| [03:35.16] |
N9ne: "Yeah text it to me right now. Love." |
| [03:37.39] |
Ubi: "Aight peace." |
