| Cowabunga, I’m takin' MC’s straight under |
| You can’t see me like Stevie Wonder |
| Thunderclap full blown roulette style on the microphone |
| Throwin' your chromosomes like a cyclone |
| And commercial raps get the gun claps |
| A whack on the ground of the head with my ill skill raps |
| I’ma kill me a crazy motherfucker tonight |
| Step out the light nocturnal to the night, word 'em up |
| Tech your sight and put you in fright |
| And all you wanna fight 'cause my game is mad tight, aight |
| Yo, E this might be my last album son, hell no |
| 'Cause niggas trying to play us like crumbs nobodies |
| I’m a fuck around and murder everybody |
| And get crazy buck wild with the shottie |
| You couldn’t see me if you weighed 500 million karats |
| 'Cause I’m sychosymatic |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| I’m from the dirtiest, stinkiest part of Long Island |
| But in every corner of the world, my style be whiling |
| And I’m dead serious even though I may be smiling |
| I’m the shadier cantagonizing character in back of the hoodie |
| Coming to get you for your goodies |
| So if your 2−2-4−5 technozzels, think y’all can creep |
| But Keith Murray ain’t losing no sleep |
| I’ll man handle and dismantle your mandle down to your thorax |
| On wax with a bloody axe |
| But on the real for the real, the real I build on Capital Hill |
| And ill 'cause of skill |
| Breakin' shit up with degrees like a Count Crackula |
| In fact the factor is compound fractures |
| For every action there’s a reaction |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| Ooh, I might lose my cool |
| We are the world, I’m shakin' and bakin' and takin' |
| Niggas down to swirls and twirls |
| I’m runnin' them off the ball like Earl and Pearl |
| This is a basic general classic situation |
| Can’t nobody see me in God’s creation |
| I steps it up from inspiring expectation |
| And funk illustrations, you can still justifications |
| Perhaps you would like me to make the biscuit callap |
| And make your lungs collapse |
| You represent, he represent, I represent |
| The sick bizarre twist is that I torment in my performance |
| Kickin' brain twitchin' myopic topics |
| Niggas be like, «Stop it, you got the illiotics», yeah |
Інформація про пісню На цій сторінці ви можете ознайомитися з текстом пісні Sychosymatic , виконавця - Keith Murray. Пісня з альбому Best Of Keith Murray, Vol. 1, у жанрі Соул