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lirik lagu non phixion - skum

hun hun houh
non phixion
boulevard
check it out

[sabac]
ayo we rock stars
g o d gods, like who we are
we drop movie cars and hot nudie bars with movie stars
hold heat like 87, soaking easy, gold t–th
non phixion for the people
we harangue the police
attack the pig pen, leave your wig bent
i’ve been sent to spark the ink tank
i got a big shank , an itchy index
atlantic city playing roulette
lucky 7 – 26 – 2 on black, 100 chips on red
i’m fantastic, yours all nerd rap, you don’t deserve cr-p
talk without no accent- we the reason to flip the bird back
i’m sick f-ck – sabac don’t give a sh-t wut
asian cutie – 6 in the morning getting my d-ck sucked
call it sp-ce-rap, f-ggot, you get you face slapped
be at least 2 weeks before you get the taste back
i’m stressed out, watching hair fall out my head
having nightmares, catching myself, falling out the bed
the chain smoker, kettle one, beer, scotch and soda
when i rhyme, my eyes pop out like stanley roper
crashing festival, jump on stage get you show rocked
the boulevard, kopenhagen, non-phixion, jo tak

[ill bill]
exploding sp-ce shuttle eyes on his face
mothership alienated sorceress
soldier with the gas-mask
dead astronauts, pyramids
paradox, paranormal, paratrooper
paralize you with the luger
breaking you to suicidal tendencies
know your enemies
the future of treachery: the twenty-first century
laser weapons and ecstasy
moving objects mentally
my concept confessed to murder in penitentiaries
i’m like the 70’s where everybody sniff c0ke
slit throats, spit quotes, expensive like mink coats
why i’m so f-cked up ? only my shrink knows
dr tenenbaum, a small guy with a big nose
i seen it all in my short life
me and my peeps is all trife
we ain’t sticking your moms, then we f-cking your wife
if it ain’t
weed in blunts then its dust in my pipe
if it ain’t
slugs in my gun then its blood on my knife
i put you to sleep, now you just a cousin of life
non-phixion, drug-music, make you jump in a fight
this is for the streets, i could give a f-ck what you like
even my freestyles are f-ck better then sh-t that you write

[goretex]
i’m unsuitable, my thug music sound beautiful
i come in bad taste
like sniffing ket before a funeral
then p-ss out, choking on blood, we gone thugs
i heard your mom does dot-com sh-ts with b-tt-plugs
mountains of blow, smoking ounce to bounce to the show
counting my dough, we angel-dust sp-ce legends
you get your face shredded
evil f-ck since i was a kid
i like barbara [?], picture that epmd [?] did
paranoid type, we run around with infra-red lights
i got a squad of midgets, sc-mbags who slang your dice
f-ck a pace sl-t, illegal sh-t, phixion hate club
get off the d-ck b-tch, i’m laughing cause i see what hate does
speaking in codes, dvd receiving my flows
bonded by blood, warrior drums, project thumbs
tortures tactics like egyptians, mutilation and lumps
10 shots to your rib-cage, the ghetto kincaid [?]
elderly rampage, nine point changes and switch-blades
verbal air raid, i leave crowds amazed and afraid
sniffing a that’s the reason, mid grade i’m balling out
fifty dollar blunts and all the weed be falling out
i’m here to get the belt
uncle howie, take listen non-phixion
world-tour, while my sh-t hitting in state-prisons

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