lirik lagu notion - cold steel
[verse: notion]
i felt a notion when it crept in my hand, spirits lifted again
familiar when i spit it, & i did it, wit a gifted pen
just “leave” my emotions, im a sensitive man
i’ll have ya livin in a prison, wit no visits from ya fam’
(god d-mn!) i’ll shove it in ya grill, eat the cold steel
mic contains raw lead, its poison in ya outmaeal
from bytin’ my sh-t, makes me tighter on the grip
my environment elevatin higher, while you expire b-tch!
(oooh d-mn!) im flyin, sh-t, no-where to rendevous
be careful when im stompin thru, im watchin who ya talkin to
i try to calm myself, & now im takin’ a brisk walk
lucky this steeel’s the outlet, for when i get p-ssed off!
(on target man) i’ll show you im an arsonist, wit contraban
& definately settle the score, like im the son of sam
i trans-late the cold steel, to every palm of hand
& show you expression of aggretion is in every man, d-mn! blam blam….
[verse: cee]
yo, gimme the steel i’m here, it’s big cee fresh from movin’ the soul tunes
steppin’ with notion, man the crew finna roll, dudes
is buggin’ like ‘jesus christ’, homie it’s old news
need heat muhf-ckas? now you know who to go to,
uh, y’all can’t hold me back, c-nts i’m raw like that
swag whatever like it’s only rap
flowed 10 plus, perfected it but spittin’ at half mast
preparin’ for it since the kid was chillin’ in dad’s sack,
peep the old sh-t, boy been sick
style is f-ckin’ bonkers, dog it’s like this
name another cat period
who kick soul raps then bend back on k!ller sh-t, man i ain’t hearin’ it,
fam, who i be dealin’ with, uh
i’m in the biz, i could review your disc and leave you cryin’ like a teary b-tch
gimme a pen and a pad, a keyboard and the net in the lab
and d-mn it, cold steel all that’s left in my hand, blam
[verse: theory]
yo p-ss the baton, it’s my turn to run it
the steel’s in my hand, i got it covered, come and feel me fam…
i mean to feel my flow, it’s just the beats and soul
the marriage of that which keeps it cold
you know i plan to attack, i’m always savage on tracks
i tote a mic like i’m handling gats
whether you spanish or black or be the whitest
the vibe is the same when you hear how tight it is
man, a writer’s a writer for life
not a “rydah”, a scribe, like i fight with my lines up
i’mma rhyme till time’s up and don’t give a flying f-ck
if that’s the only way i’m defined, c-nts
the mic is part of my spine, what? it keeps me up
and also using it to beat you up with
i’m dying to fire it up kid
be wary of the weapon if you’re steppin’ coz it’s not to be f-cked with
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