lirik lagu daniel monroe - ministroe
[intro]
i can feel the beat flowing through me
this is ministroe
dim the strokes
really low
will he though?
spit in each row
well, gimme a minute, hoe
[verse]
i swerve into the curves of the brachistochrone to close in the approaching gaps faster
and remain my intellect sacrosanct to provide my lobes written info like instashows
born with heterochromia, later contracted sebaceous carcinoma
the soma’s most sagacious polymaths replaced it with a jacinth stone
red plasma extracting engineer, post death leechings like the atlas vampire
predicaments gone linear, a set of self~inflicted scheduled quagmires
a slasher premier, torsos explode in half when the shotgun ax fires
pax pimir: khyber stingers, rig the wizardry with the dm’s trap wires
my pen can help you fly, depending on the bar rental taxes
direct my enemies’ funerals, call for dimaggio’s practices
if i become a rockstar, call me metal jacket
surrounded by electronics and monster drinks is the modern caravaggio’s bacchus
crystal beach cyclone aerodynamics with lomcevak spin baiting
fighting to the death like how bandicoot rats are living and behaving
swarming reinstiution is what these z~fold pamphlets are containing
get stung well enough to be humbled with no swaggots complaining
my mind’s pretty hazy, just kept picking rhymes in the fog
the roc bird has got spear talons and thick hide as the smaug
one heart in the chamber, a blissful demise by hugo claus
one pro put the dogs down, sent them to flip side, you know vaughn
a~u, g. to the h, not the o. the stinger doesn’t take close shaves
the only king i see is stevie ray or the one who’s safe on the home plate
don’t rip my vocal cords off from my impression to vent
a civil war contains cruelty and patience that expects no less
my rap screening makes it clear to not lash out on a menacer
some people immediately listen but take days to register
the bone circumference is so dense, it requires a crashout to the messenger
thicker than john ferraro when he became a wrestler
my criel mound has layers of martyrs, threat levels vary for where the b’s slept
the bigger the target i slain, the deeper i had to bury them
cotton fuel soothes my nerves, but i’m seething when i smell the gun smokin’
when the exterminators come, they season me and i end up monroasted
every artery, vein, and capillary drives me to strive for better changes
in all over 60 thousand miles of tissue routes, the ministroe guile never fades
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