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lirik lagu buddha monk - that life shit

[etcetera]
i heard all the ciphers but then again
your circle of feminine gentlemen
be trying to expose bars and show me love like greenwich village and wimbledon
your text i write, damage ya mental
now while i think of writing you still checking out my brain
but you gotta examine a pencil, for the prop sk!lls and the credentials
i pack ’em in like sixteen m-th-f-ckers crammin’ the rental
i perish you over tebit and play the plan of the temple
my scholast’ automatic witty technical tactic
perpertuate’s dominance over the plastic wannabe addict and rhyming fanatic
critical lyrical, enter and we feeling this digital
placing b-tterflies in your umbilicals
these and k!llable syllables attack pitiful typicals
giving you goosebumps making your spine chillable
i rest on wycoff for murder where this fat b-tch was attempting
to have me heard on her girdle and her s-xual circle, one up my building
my love like a gerbil, she wanna be urkel, but she slow like a turtle
and i’m crazy hyper, mental sh-t is like baby diapers
loving women and specific who don’t claim the lady like her
twenty/eighty strikes ya, like a n-gga talking sh-t to 80 bikers
i fight the dead bodies up in your cribs
you can be the livest m-th-f-cka know where you live
anyway, i rumble on the humble, to make the highest establishment tumble
and trumble, that’s how it be like bumble you
fumble the ball and be normal as h-ll, general like stalin
i’m certain, that when you enter the stage, i be the hand closing the curtain
f-ck faking the pearl then, putting the work in like a slave
putting the dirt in, your open sores that are hurting
just to manifest the lyrical sk!ll i spill that sh-t
that leave you all horizontally still
you wanna ill? on the road, i have my tour bust follow you
musical mogul master, leave your ride a bl–dy mess like count dracula’s acura
from backseat, to driver’s seat and p-ssenger
packing the lyrical calibur to splatter your harness of scavengers
don’t battle me, if you want your career, don’t challenge me
the last challenger blew up, when it flew up
these sharp -ss lyrical scar, whoever you are
for claiming that your sh-t is so hard…

-scratches-
“hard!” “hard!” “hard!”
“hard!” “hard!” “hard!”

[etcetera]
this that hard sh-t, not that same ol’ regular sh-t
comercialize, by this and that, won’t but etcetera sh-t
that hard sh-t, that type of sh-t that drive your -ss up the ward
that sh-t that make the hottest, cuz you know’s ain’t nothing at all
that hard sh-t, sh-t to said, this is what k!lled rapping
f-ck a standing ovation, you should of had a crowd on stilts clapping
that hard sh-t, that sh-t that make you jet from your plan
that you was down for mad years, but to get with our plan
that hard sh-t, this ectetera, aka, octagon supreme sh-t
that crucial critical vulgar extreme sh-t
that hard sh-t, that essential sh-t, that mental sh-t
the balance between joking around and showing up dental sh-t
that hard sh-t, this that sh-t that makes me lyrically fly
for those who deny, that sh-t that gets you punched in your eye
that hard sh-t, that clever, intelligent, witty sh-t
brooklyn mood, the 20 eighty, hip hop new york city sh-t
that hard sh-t, just do raw delivery
this that sh-t, that make you throw up your flame like the statue of liberty
that hard sh-t, that’s that flavor, major miraculous
twisted metaphor, made you put your freshness against my wackness
that hard sh-t, i guess i be the most invigerating
mc known to mankind, spitting sh-t your kids’ll be imitating
that hard sh-t, for all them b-tch n-ggas who fronted on track
like they all that, knowing they didn’t want it like that
that hard sh-t, this that sh-t that put the squash that made the beef
and f-cked your head up, like b-tches sucking d-ck with razor t–th
that hard sh-t, say that sh-t that’s coming harder than hard
from out of 2080 n-gga, god is the squad
that hard sh-t, i’m guaranteed to certify your sh-t is dead
portables leaving ya crew like, you heard what that n-gga said
that hard sh-t, that wild, obnoxious and loud sh-t
disrespectfully rude, inconsiderate and foul sh-t
that hard sh-t, that 20/80’s sh-t, what crazy with you made me spit
that gravy sh-t, that come wetter than how your lady get
that hard sh-t… ah man, f-ck it, you get the point

- lirik lagu buddha monk

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