Fuckhiphop! feat. Mach Spitz & Grant Livesay [Rhyme Circus Winter Special] скачать в хорошем качестве

Fuckhiphop! feat. Mach Spitz & Grant Livesay [Rhyme Circus Winter Special]

Vocals by Marcus Carab, Mach Spitz & Grant Livesay. Music by Emtee-L. Free album download: http://marcuscarab.bandcamp.com/album... Lyrics (partial): Hold onto your hats kids This gonna be tactless Rappers getting weary putting theory into practice smack this up into a better tier up into the mesosphere rap is reinvented by my presence here seven year itch on the back of the master pitching from the stitches to the back and the catcher i'll be sitting shiva when the track is remastered like fuck hip hop, you magnificent bastard up in your system like my name was the password DJ with a hard drive, here to raid your archives marcus is a far cry from your average barfly think you got it figured out? well let's hear it smart guy dark side tightrope balance is precarious think you're making magic but there's malice in your fairy dust and still it isn't scaring us, not enough to bury us is that shit your best shot? because that's fucking hilarious and I can carry us straight to the heat death of the universe i am weightless, don't need breath i exhale verse, eat words and I bleed hooks wondering if other emcees can even read books if he want a battle on the fly i know he's cooked I stared a muse in the eye - and she shook i know you're confused but just try to relax because we're doin this like brewin moonshine out back i'm pursuing you blind but i'm right on track you'll be moving through phases, i'm glued to your gazes i know, the truth often amazes but i'm not one to have faith with no basis i'll put my money smack dab where my face is if it seems tasteless try to contemplate this if you knew you was who was setting all the pedigrees who would you bet on? y'know, hypothetically this is a whole new kind of vision that I'm setting free this is a whole new kind of demon that's besetting me this is the meaning and the truth of what a dreamer see making the scene look like it's chewing on the scenery this is the world encompassed in a word for all to see this is a whole new kind of global hip hop policy this is unstoppable it's hopeless no escaping free this is a crazy huge explosion overtaking me I got a rep, yep, and i'm'a straight perpetrate it Fun times and gun rhymes And sometimes x rated Crumb bums with down thumbs, I'm used to being hated No likes from tykes for the hype we've created But that's ok, cuz I'ma keep dropping tracks And wack jacks in backpacks can tell me to relax But I'm a shark son the dark one the fish you don't poke Jaws on the stage, grab a cage or get broke Folk croak non-stop "yer shit's in the pawnshop" While I'm rocking lawnjobs and waitin for the bombdrop Rom-com wrecker with the spoilers Way before my time like the oilers in 82 And I'ma say to you "yer tripping" Wack sadsacks meet the mad jacks, we rippin Throats yanked, tongues planked and mounted Young wankers stand up and be counted here we go it's round two it's down to the count and the ground-view the crowd that surrounds you's about to get a little hit of Marcus Carab heartsick struck by the marksman cherub and darkness scare 'em one kick put you past sputnik lug like a drumkit would you have thunk it? battleship? sunk it bullshit? debunked it fast gear? cranked it last beer? drank it thanks kid that shit really hit the spot now gimme what you got can't stop me I'm jimmying the lock straight from the top spot this is marcus the demmagog a-k-a m-d-c don't get it wrong but we can get along in time i suspect if your style can admit that mine is the best formalize that, sign it in a tie and a vest i'll give you time to reflect, i think you'll find i'm correct fuck hip hop? why yes, we fornicate voraciously found ourselves fondling roundabouts cirque du soleil traipsing o'er syncopated tightropes a team trapeze act to spark a flash mob light show juggle verses with the finest of rhyme circus acrobatic larynx lurches for the loveliest of birds in peacock tail feather dresses perching stage-side with the fellas pigeon-hearted darlings for the daring and damn-well daunted haunted by these daughters born of hip-hop mantras emcee pitching a three-ring tent in Toronto elephant in the room fed off cilantro? plausible, but applause, cat calls, and faux pas appear a more probable cause spit fire fire eaters fueled by the fury and delirious queer but us clowns clown for serious, period. bleary eyed bastards like baboons to bananas and buxom funambulists fidgeting for fan service never shoot for Barnum sans a shot of baileys guest represent the RC til Emtee-L's beat is fading