lirik lagu agent 23 & bski rocks - withdrawals
[verse 1: agent 23]
it’s 23; hard to find me in the spot sober
i tuned in, turned on, dropped out, and got over
my only religion is spittin’ ’til god shows up
and found peace; with every beat, i’m a lot closer
trapped between seeking wisdom and hedonism
i see visions; speak of my rhythm and people listen
cause i rock thorough; dawn to dusk and nocturnal
got inside my mind; minds are bent like crop circles
underground spit; still ram-shackled
but my jams tackle cats; tide away the sand castles
the way i spit it, every album is a riddle
because i’m gifted like malcolm in the middle
i got it covered; compet-tors sweat like brick and
hot mustard; getting hang-ups like wrong numbers
anti-aircraft aimed at the wack when i wage war
but laidback; this is the path it was laid for
laidback; this is the path i was made for
laidback, yo, yo
[hook: agent 23]
cause i’m addicted to funk like drunks to sip bottles
if i don’t grip the mic, then i suffer withdrawals
that are just awful; so i kick my flows out
while cats keep yelling like “no doubt”
addicted to funk like drunks to sip bottles
if i don’t grip the mic, then i suffer withdrawals
that are just awful; so i smash tracks to bits
while cats keep talking about it like “that’s the sh-t”
[verse 2: agent 23]
my cabinets with no books are cavernous
my pens are ravenous; sleep is sacrilege
speaking for the universe and serving as a catalyst
strictly pure sh-t; no preservatives and additives
it’s 23 giving what you need
and i can’t stop moving like that bus in speed
i must travel every city and country from sydney to hungary
making a living by spitting on funk beats as i’m
ready to get grungy but mastered fantastic
pump up the b-ss and blast the hand clap sh-t
let’s get it going; so c-cky when i’m flowing
that i speak as spokesman writing slogans for trojan
i get you open like heart surgery
and only the cat behind the bar is serving me
but whether it be studio joints or handheld sh-t
i got to rip the mic; i can’t help it
i can’t help it
i can’t help it
uh-uh, because, because
[hook: agent 23]
cause i’m addicted to funk like drunks to sip bottles
if i don’t grip the mic, then i suffer withdrawals
that are just awful; so i shoot my slang
while cats keep yelling like “do your thang”
addicted to funk like drunks to sip bottles
if i don’t grip the mic, then i suffer withdrawals
that are just awful; so i let the lyrics rip
while cats keep talking about it like “i’m feeling it”
[verse 3: agent 23]
write diligent; shine like filament
given the mics away like “stop me before i k!ll again!”
busting sessions, crushing peasants
with the best inventions since combustion engines
welcome to the eye of the storm when i perform
i get crowds moving like pulling fire alarms
the oldie spot rocker; never c-ck-blocker
got proppers; haters bite b-lls like gobstoppers
now watch the head nod; kind of a stiff neck
so, no i ain’t rich yet, or hope to get big checks
but i rhyme ’cause i enjoy it, not to go exploit it
to an industry that’s full of sh-t like broken toilets
third-eye; we going 20/20 like sealab
rhyming gets me higher than zigzags and weed bags
i can’t relax; i just relapse
23’s a full-on addict like “f-ck rehab!”
23, funkaholic for life, g.f.e
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