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|Some Great Lyrics|
A list of 20 songs with some favorite lyrics of mine
Wide eyed. knee deep in surprise. Just below your thighs the temperature drops 5 degrees. Your stand-by flight has just arrived.
Tongue-tied, bleeding from your eyes. Even Christ himself would cringe at the sight of your scars. While you're counting sheep, i'll count my lucky stars.
you were the last good thing i ever saw.
The Guns of Brixton
When they kick out your front door, how you gonna come? With your hands on your head, Or on the trigger of your gun?
When the law break in, How you gonna go? Shot down on the pavement
Or waiting in death row?
You can crush us, You can bruise us, But you'll have to answer to Oh, Guns of Brixton.
I stagger in the gathering possessed by a patter-in That be scatterin Over the globe will my vocals be travellin Unravellin my abdomen it's slime that's babblin Grammatics that are masculine. I grab them in, verbally badgerin broads. I wish that Madelline, was back on Video LP. I went against all odds and got a even steven. Proceed to read and not believin everything I'm readin. But my brain was bleedin, needin feedin, and exercise I didn't seek the best of buys, it's a lie to textualize. I analyze where I rest my eyes And chastise the best of guys with punchlines
I'm Nestle when it's Crunch-time. For your mind like one time If poetry was pussy I'd be sunshine cause I deliver like the Sun-Times. Confined in once-mines on dumb rhymes I combine I'm hype like I'm unsigned, my diet I unswine. Eatin beef sometimes I try to cut back on that shit. This rap shit is truly outta control. My style is too developed to be arrested
It's the freestyle, so now it's out on parole. They tried to hold my soul in a holding cell so I would sell. I bonded with a break and had enough to make bail.
On Love, In Sadness
Sing about that oh love it's a brittle madness, I sing about it in all my sadness. Not falsified to say that I found God. So inevitably well it still exists. Pale and fine I can't dismiss, And I won't resist and if I die well, at least I tried. And we just lay awake in lust and rust in the rain. And pour over everything we say we trust. Well it happened again, I listened in through hallways and thin doors. Where the rivers unwind, rust and the rain endure. The rust and the rain so thin, Well I'm in like Flynn again.
Caviar and silk dreams, my voice is linen. Spittin venom up in the, minds of young women. Mink thoughts to think thoughts type similar, might you remember, my shit is col-l-l-ld like December. Smoother than Persian rugs, the cashmere chromosomes make a nigga Jigga Jay-Z lethal drugs. Eighteen carat gold pen, when it hits the sheets, words worth a million like I'm rappin em through platinum teeth. I got the Grey Poupon, you been warned cause all beef return well done filet mignon. The Don, smell of Dom on my breath as I yawn, when you hoes try to con a pro. As if you didn't know, Jay's about gettin dough, spittin flow like fine wines down your earlobe. I'm smooth but deadly like a pearl handled pistol. Honies hum in melody when I, rub it like crystal. The proper ettiquette, when I drop the subject, verb, then the predicate, with this rich nigga preterite.
|6||Love You Moon|
H-Bombs And Strip Malls
Now take your filthy claws out of me. I don't want them here no more.
A Baseball bat for your TV screen, and a hydrogen bomb in your strip mall.
They start you off so young, instilling what you need. Flashing imagery persist to, cut the flow off you bloodstream. Until our imaginations have become pixilated. And now megabytes do the work of brain cells and hard drives fill the task of hearts. But humans can't be trusted anyway. Cause we can't live forever and immortality is an art just like the fear of rejection. Come on swallow this handful down, you know your conscience is impregnable.
It's a number game, but shit don't add up somehow. Like I got, sixteen to thirty-two bars to rock it, but only 15% of profits, ever see my pockets. Like, sixty-nine billion in the last twenty years spent on national defense but folks still live in fear. Like, nearly half of America's largest cities is one-quarter black. That's why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack. Sixteen ounces to a pound, twenty more to a ki. A five minute sentence hearing and you're no longer free. 40% of Americans own a cell phone so they can hear, everything that you say when you ain't home. I guess, Michael Jackson was right, "You Are Not Alone". Rock your hardhat black cause you in the Terrordome. Full of hard niggaz, large niggaz, dice tumblers
Young teens on prison greens facin life numbers. Crack mothers, crack babies and AIDS patients. Young bloods can't spell but they could rock you in PlayStation. This new math is whippin motherfuckers ass, you wanna know how to rhyme you better learn how to add. It's mathematics.
Da Art of Storytellin' Pt. 1
Now Suzy Skrew had a partna named Sasha (Sasha), Thumper (Thumper). I remember her number like the summer, when her and Suzy yeah they threw a slumber - - party. But you can not call it that cause it was slummer. Well it was more like spend the night. Three in the morning yawnin dancin under street lights. We chillin like a villain and a nigga feelin right, in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite all of the bullshit we on our back starin at the stars above, (aww man) Talkin bout what we gonna be when we grow up. I said what you wanna be, she said, "Alive" (hmm). It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes
I coulda died. Time went on, I got grown, rhyme got strong, mind got blown. I came back home to find lil Sasha was gone. Her mamma said she with a nigga that be treatin her wrong. I kept on singin my song and hopin at a show, that I would one day see her standin in the front row. But two weeks later she got found in the back of a school, with a needle in her arm, baby two months due, Sasha Thumper.
Me and everything around me, is unstable like Chernobyl. Ready to go at any moment, jumpin like a pogo stick. Life never lived up to my expectations, so I accept the patient. Expect the worse but now I'm pacin
Back and forth, inside, I'm melting like water on wicked witches. A monster truck done came and ran over my picket fences. I had the best of life in my clinches but monkey wrenches was thrown, like chairs kings sit on, my prayers seem too long. I fall asleep before the endin, don't even get to say Amen, I hope He understand I be on bended knees. At times, I think I'm crazy, so I say forget it, or maybe it's the devil infiltrating and like Riddick...Bowe. I've been fighting this since them fetus days. I count from one to twenty, when I'm through, repeat the phrase. It's just a phase, it's gon all pass, but that gets old too, I'm weakening like a deacon doin dirt, what am I supposed to do?
What Makes You Cry
Now I've got a question baby, what makes you cry? Cause I haven't seen any water in the corners of your eyes. For a day, or a week, or a month, or a year. Haven't seen much of you, since you left me my dear. Can't you see that I'm hurting, how I'm falling apart. Don't you care about my drinking, or my poor lonely heart. I thought you liked football. You didn't mind those videos. And my dog didn't mean to ruin your clothes, he can't help it. Now you won't take my phone calls, you sent my letters back. You're paying for a lawyer to stab me in the back. Then I saw you on the street. You looked happy, that's a fact. I'm impressed, it's a hell of an act.
On A Lonely Screen
There's a blue eyed pretty woman saying things that she don't mean. Come on baby don't you listen. Lock your doors up tight tonight. Cause there's a million people dying and there's bound to be more. Learned it just from listening to a faithful, faithful imitation cause we breathe in everything. It's in our eyes and it's in our skin, speaks a holy replication
with her checks all sunken in, bloody nose and a plastic grin. He needs a pill just to feel her insides, she needs a crutch just to wake her up. Ghost-eyed man and the walking dead what does feeling really feel like? Digging up a body from a burial ground, wipe the bones off nice and clean. Mother don't breast feed your children with a plastic mouse and a crystal screen. Now theres more white people talking about a war that's make believe. Doctor spins a word like freedom we pretend to know just what it means.
|12||Mastering The List|
First comes the school, then comes the job. Wife and two kids and a family car. We're all fallin in line and waiting to die and for what? A plaque on the wall, and another new award. A corporate statistic on a government chart. You know I don't need no reading for the beat of my heart. You might as well get that bar code tatooed on your arm because convenience has strangled art in every form.
|13||Never Slept So Soundly|
Adamant resistance to my lasting desires. Searching for an explanation to why I sleep alone. Oh not darling anymore, if you call you just use my name. Let these clenched fists open wide to see where all the answers lie. Looking for a sign that I'm still alive with these pilled up smiles and these sloppy eyes yeah. Isn't that the truth? And all the hollow whisperings from between your sheets. All the maybes in the world don't mean anything now. Pray its over soon. Never slept so soundly than with your breath on my neck.
Memory Lane (Sittin In Da Park)
One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars. Three for Alize niggas deceased or behind bars. I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz? My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses. Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real a nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja. Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces. Your telephone blowing, black stitches or fat shoelaces. Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic four-four I let blow and back down po-po when I'm vexed. So, my pen taps the paper then my brain's blank. I see dark streets, hustling brothers who keep the same rank. Pumping for something, some uprise, plus some fail, judges hanging niggas, uncorrect bails, for direct sales. My intellect prevails from a hanging cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real. Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats, I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace.
All the words in my mouth, that the scene deemed unworthy of letting out, banded together to form a makeshift militia and burrowed bloodily through my tongue and my teeth. And I stood proud in the gallery. With my open socket of a mouth for them to see. They all just laughed and said
"That boy, he, that boy's got woe. Woe. He lives with woe. Woe."
And this girl who I met, whose pride makes her hard to forget, she took pity on me horizontally but most likely because of my band.
The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair. "You sound so angry, just calm down, you found me." I said please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast. You're in a strange part of our town.... Yeah, the night's not over you're not trying hard enough. Our lives are changing lanes, you ran me off the road. The wait is over I'm now taking over. You're no longer laughing, I'm not drowning fast enough.
Woke up to a brand new skyline. We licked our wounds and mourned the dead. Swallowed the story, hook and sinker. Is that what we meant, when we said that we never would forget? Are we fools and cowards all
to let them cover up their lies. 'Cause we all watched the buildings fall, and watched the scales fall from our eyes. A fire burns beneath Manhattan, still we breathe with broken lungs.
The Start of Something
Oh, tell me your thoughts, tell me your thoughts on liberty. See there's a place where I sink to sleeping. She said: "Oh, my vote is as red as my blood," Will you join me for another round? I haven't had the chance to speak yet. Godspeed... I break the law once every week to feel your touch.
What's a book to you in bed? Do you feel better? Older? This just makes me ill, your name is dripping from my pen. Still, you're not around to curse.
I'll drop the gun now, I'm still under you.
How stupid is it? I can't talk about it, I gotta sing about it and make a record of my heart. How stupid is it? Won't you give me a minute? Just come up to me and say hello to my heart. How stupid is it? For all I know you want me too, and maybe you just don't know what to do. Or maybe you're scared to say: "I'm falling for you".
I wish I could get my head out of the sand, cause I think we'd make a good team, and you would keep my fingernails clean. But that's just a stupid dream that I won't realize. 'Cause I can't even look in your eyes
without shakin', and I ain't fakin'. I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon.
|20||The World Has Turned And Left Me Here|
The world has turned and left me here. Just where I was before you appeared. And in your place, an empty space has filled the void behind my face. I just made love with your sweet memory, one thousand times in my head. You said you loved it more than ever, you said. You remain, turned away. Turning further everyday.
|Lengthier than I expected, sorry. Lyrics were copied and pasted from websites so if they're off dont blame me. |
|19 : ]|
|I second 19|
|With you on 3 and 8. 14 is good but nothing of his will ever beat NY state of mind for me.|
|Whoo, Guns of Brixton ftw.|
|You'll see my face when I attack No ski-hat or a Jason mask No laser-beam gleam So you ain't seein' where I'm aimin' at Charles Manson clone Melting flesh like Indiana Jones It's Tampa's own, titled the Toolman Bringin' hammers home (Yup!) And fame it's know me here Gats will kill ya And we'll bust inside your house like Michael Jackson's "Thriller" Caterpillar arm slasher flick, slash a bitch, distort a thug Separate the men from the women, like a divorce court judge I'm not a rapper I'm a rocker in a grunge band I'm supa' fly, One hell of a helicopter stunt man (Yeah!) We'll make your guns jam And leave your forehead crammed With sharp swords that cut Boars Head ham|
|i bet bungys gonna be all "lol thrice" or sth|