Song | Urutora Kaiju f. Tonedeff |
Artist | Cunninlynguists |
Album | Strange Journey Volume Three |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Tonedeff: | |
I am... Phallaxor The Matter Lord | |
Master of war with plasma swords | |
Massive in form with acid pores | |
Mad for the taste of your planet’s core | |
Gnashed in my teeth and I plan to hoard galaxies worth | |
I’m a savage | |
Bored, naturally - because the lack of sport saddens me | |
I’m a galactic force! | |
Who dares to battle when standing before me, renders you halved? | |
When I warp through parallel paths to distort your atom’s order! | |
The Galaxian Matador, dash at me | |
within a flash you’ll see packs of me | |
that’ll be swarming within an asteroid storm | |
Here is your last chance warning, Then I won’t ask no more | |
Did you get that? | |
Then I’ll hit you with that celestial bitchslap. | |
Natti: | |
Perpetual impact that your mind can’t shield | |
Weighing in at a gillion parsons it’s Zarcon Steele | |
Tentacles tatter your tissue, till torn, tender to the gristle | |
The pitiful pray for the victim, I evict the veins of the victor | |
No matter the matter you’re made of it contains the brains that I make haze of | |
Thoughts you’re thinking you thought are those brought to those that I make slaves of | |
The pecs your appendage’s pump is the hunk of flesh that I make caves of | |
Imprint the pattern of Saturn across your face like its make-up | |
Tonedeff: | |
You better wake up! | |
You speaking of Saturn - you late much? | |
If you’re reading the data it’s 8 months till you see where the flash and the rings of my championships came from | |
Now you want light-speed? | |
Say what? | |
There is no one like me, Likely, so it doesn't take much | |
If you’re taking up space and you’re in need of a weight cut | |
I’ll sever your tentacles, then I’ll make ‘em a paintbrush | |
Staining a blood moon | |
Creative within one swoop - parted in four | |
The Cosmic artist of war, you could say that I was Sun Tzu | |
plotting the gore | |
One-Two! | |
You can hold my weapons, I’ll punch through your core defenses | |
Then I'm shattering your orbital bone | |
While knocking the solar wind out of your solar plexus. | |
Natti: | |
You're outta your mind, this marble is mine | |
To break into dust and do as a line | |
Or roll it with space and lace it with time | |
Right after I separate you from your spine | |
I'm here to perpetuate your demise | |
I savor the hint of hope in your eyes | |
When I'm done I'm sticking my dick in a black hole and creating the sun (son) | |
To shine down on your grave from | |
Wherever the fuck I came from | |
Pimping this planet since day 1 | |
Your earth chose me | |
Zarkon's so far gone in your galaxy balls deep | |
Weight of the world, fate has been hurled | |
Too close within arm's reach |
Tonedeff: | |
I am... Phallaxor The Matter Lord | |
Master of war with plasma swords | |
Massive in form with acid pores | |
Mad for the taste of your planet' s core | |
Gnashed in my teeth and I plan to hoard galaxies worth | |
I' m a savage | |
Bored, naturally because the lack of sport saddens me | |
I' m a galactic force! | |
Who dares to battle when standing before me, renders you halved? | |
When I warp through parallel paths to distort your atom' s order! | |
The Galaxian Matador, dash at me | |
within a flash you' ll see packs of me | |
that' ll be swarming within an asteroid storm | |
Here is your last chance warning, Then I won' t ask no more | |
Did you get that? | |
Then I' ll hit you with that celestial bitchslap. | |
Natti: | |
Perpetual impact that your mind can' t shield | |
Weighing in at a gillion parsons it' s Zarcon Steele | |
Tentacles tatter your tissue, till torn, tender to the gristle | |
The pitiful pray for the victim, I evict the veins of the victor | |
No matter the matter you' re made of it contains the brains that I make haze of | |
Thoughts you' re thinking you thought are those brought to those that I make slaves of | |
The pecs your appendage' s pump is the hunk of flesh that I make caves of | |
Imprint the pattern of Saturn across your face like its makeup | |
Tonedeff: | |
You better wake up! | |
You speaking of Saturn you late much? | |
If you' re reading the data it' s 8 months till you see where the flash and the rings of my championships came from | |
Now you want lightspeed? | |
Say what? | |
There is no one like me, Likely, so it doesn' t take much | |
If you' re taking up space and you' re in need of a weight cut | |
I' ll sever your tentacles, then I' ll make ' em a paintbrush | |
Staining a blood moon | |
Creative within one swoop parted in four | |
The Cosmic artist of war, you could say that I was Sun Tzu | |
plotting the gore | |
OneTwo! | |
You can hold my weapons, I' ll punch through your core defenses | |
Then I' m shattering your orbital bone | |
While knocking the solar wind out of your solar plexus. | |
Natti: | |
You' re outta your mind, this marble is mine | |
To break into dust and do as a line | |
Or roll it with space and lace it with time | |
Right after I separate you from your spine | |
I' m here to perpetuate your demise | |
I savor the hint of hope in your eyes | |
When I' m done I' m sticking my dick in a black hole and creating the sun son | |
To shine down on your grave from | |
Wherever the fuck I came from | |
Pimping this planet since day 1 | |
Your earth chose me | |
Zarkon' s so far gone in your galaxy balls deep | |
Weight of the world, fate has been hurled | |
Too close within arm' s reach |
Tonedeff: | |
I am... Phallaxor The Matter Lord | |
Master of war with plasma swords | |
Massive in form with acid pores | |
Mad for the taste of your planet' s core | |
Gnashed in my teeth and I plan to hoard galaxies worth | |
I' m a savage | |
Bored, naturally because the lack of sport saddens me | |
I' m a galactic force! | |
Who dares to battle when standing before me, renders you halved? | |
When I warp through parallel paths to distort your atom' s order! | |
The Galaxian Matador, dash at me | |
within a flash you' ll see packs of me | |
that' ll be swarming within an asteroid storm | |
Here is your last chance warning, Then I won' t ask no more | |
Did you get that? | |
Then I' ll hit you with that celestial bitchslap. | |
Natti: | |
Perpetual impact that your mind can' t shield | |
Weighing in at a gillion parsons it' s Zarcon Steele | |
Tentacles tatter your tissue, till torn, tender to the gristle | |
The pitiful pray for the victim, I evict the veins of the victor | |
No matter the matter you' re made of it contains the brains that I make haze of | |
Thoughts you' re thinking you thought are those brought to those that I make slaves of | |
The pecs your appendage' s pump is the hunk of flesh that I make caves of | |
Imprint the pattern of Saturn across your face like its makeup | |
Tonedeff: | |
You better wake up! | |
You speaking of Saturn you late much? | |
If you' re reading the data it' s 8 months till you see where the flash and the rings of my championships came from | |
Now you want lightspeed? | |
Say what? | |
There is no one like me, Likely, so it doesn' t take much | |
If you' re taking up space and you' re in need of a weight cut | |
I' ll sever your tentacles, then I' ll make ' em a paintbrush | |
Staining a blood moon | |
Creative within one swoop parted in four | |
The Cosmic artist of war, you could say that I was Sun Tzu | |
plotting the gore | |
OneTwo! | |
You can hold my weapons, I' ll punch through your core defenses | |
Then I' m shattering your orbital bone | |
While knocking the solar wind out of your solar plexus. | |
Natti: | |
You' re outta your mind, this marble is mine | |
To break into dust and do as a line | |
Or roll it with space and lace it with time | |
Right after I separate you from your spine | |
I' m here to perpetuate your demise | |
I savor the hint of hope in your eyes | |
When I' m done I' m sticking my dick in a black hole and creating the sun son | |
To shine down on your grave from | |
Wherever the fuck I came from | |
Pimping this planet since day 1 | |
Your earth chose me | |
Zarkon' s so far gone in your galaxy balls deep | |
Weight of the world, fate has been hurled | |
Too close within arm' s reach |