Wisemen Approaching... Songtext
von Wisemen
Wisemen Approaching... Songtext
I′m blowed nicely like Ron Isley
Word dice, we roll, Mice or Men, behold
Ice grill on my '86, slice the pie slightly
Flee or fight me, end up floating up in Bitely
I scope and deliver, rhyme quote Gran Turismo
Drown you in a sea of nickels, sip a fifth slow
Crash around the main bend, straight, no chaser
Silencer on the mic stand, scope no laser
My bitches stay in heels, tie up around the calf shields
Live in movie reels, exquisite ruby heels
′Ghans a field of dreams, dirty as Bronson
Head filled with more schemes, than snakes in the garden
I tippy toe like Samurai, slit a throat, on stand by
Interview in fields of landmines, perform live
During outbreaks, Ebola virus, outline the mic case
Pace gracefully faster than swimming from sharks
Unknown like spinning darts toward your melanin in dark
Stopping in at number one without a shotgun
Maybe platinum, or just Bronze, I'm out, One
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
M.C.'s who believe I′m not king of Detroit
Indestructable, like a bullet proof Rolls Royce
The common choice, I bring fire to the beef
Fuck mic fights, we can get it on in the streets
It′s calm and usually peace, beyond the Cuban Linx
I see wild times, of sound mind, be cautious who we meet
Gave a sigh of relief, when Bronze finally got a piece
In a magazine, catastrophe for all wack M.C.'s
New beginnings, revolutionize, organize the business
Your rap kinds is bygones, so long to pretending
Return of the gutter and grit
The streets have been thirsting for this shit
Since Re-Birth of a Prince, back to
Niggas who spit, darts that shatter bricks
Grimey as a park bench, built in the cement
Sick like a Cedar Point trip
My ups and downs been a roller coaster
Up until now, that′s on some old shit
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
Built my lab with black bricks, sip the liquor frequent
On Sam Cooke nights, my mind sits inside the precinct
Indecent as delinquents, running cash to the street pimps
Heathens deal stones, to clones in an oasis
Gates is open, I stole the pins out the hinges
Blair Witch darkness, I need a harness, I traveled so far
Park the '84, and saw a scene so raw
Take one, I′m straight, son, we niggas running from our caper
Invade a brothers mind, and resurrect, the records crackle
My derelict speech, at the speed of a statue
My face don't move, my words, they show and prove
Dissect the earth plates, and exhale a sandstorm
Plans form and crash with impacts of nine eleven
7 Kevlaar, God, me or the reverend
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
Word dice, we roll, Mice or Men, behold
Ice grill on my '86, slice the pie slightly
Flee or fight me, end up floating up in Bitely
I scope and deliver, rhyme quote Gran Turismo
Drown you in a sea of nickels, sip a fifth slow
Crash around the main bend, straight, no chaser
Silencer on the mic stand, scope no laser
My bitches stay in heels, tie up around the calf shields
Live in movie reels, exquisite ruby heels
′Ghans a field of dreams, dirty as Bronson
Head filled with more schemes, than snakes in the garden
I tippy toe like Samurai, slit a throat, on stand by
Interview in fields of landmines, perform live
During outbreaks, Ebola virus, outline the mic case
Pace gracefully faster than swimming from sharks
Unknown like spinning darts toward your melanin in dark
Stopping in at number one without a shotgun
Maybe platinum, or just Bronze, I'm out, One
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
M.C.'s who believe I′m not king of Detroit
Indestructable, like a bullet proof Rolls Royce
The common choice, I bring fire to the beef
Fuck mic fights, we can get it on in the streets
It′s calm and usually peace, beyond the Cuban Linx
I see wild times, of sound mind, be cautious who we meet
Gave a sigh of relief, when Bronze finally got a piece
In a magazine, catastrophe for all wack M.C.'s
New beginnings, revolutionize, organize the business
Your rap kinds is bygones, so long to pretending
Return of the gutter and grit
The streets have been thirsting for this shit
Since Re-Birth of a Prince, back to
Niggas who spit, darts that shatter bricks
Grimey as a park bench, built in the cement
Sick like a Cedar Point trip
My ups and downs been a roller coaster
Up until now, that′s on some old shit
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
Built my lab with black bricks, sip the liquor frequent
On Sam Cooke nights, my mind sits inside the precinct
Indecent as delinquents, running cash to the street pimps
Heathens deal stones, to clones in an oasis
Gates is open, I stole the pins out the hinges
Blair Witch darkness, I need a harness, I traveled so far
Park the '84, and saw a scene so raw
Take one, I′m straight, son, we niggas running from our caper
Invade a brothers mind, and resurrect, the records crackle
My derelict speech, at the speed of a statue
My face don't move, my words, they show and prove
Dissect the earth plates, and exhale a sandstorm
Plans form and crash with impacts of nine eleven
7 Kevlaar, God, me or the reverend
The Wisemen Approaching, we come from the hills
Leave your science books open, count all the shells
Approach in a black hoody, Timbs size twelve
Escape with the knowledge of self, polished in health
Writer(s): Kevin Cross, Justin Cross, Aundre Woodland, Joseph Kirk Wilson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
