Evidence - Bottle Rocket lyrics

rate me

(feat. Mad Child, Everlast, Divine Styler)

[Evidence]

Yo the rhyme excursions touch minds like brain surgeons

Feel the lyric teargas - even on clean versions

No profanit goddamnit hard like granite to the utmost

I'm butter on rye - always hired to play the low post

I stretch to go the distance yo my lungs are mad elastic

I'm dope on plastic like Flex I always keep it classic

Expressions in the facial I'm more racial from carribean rhythms

I hit 'em with a battered flow padded with circles added twice

I'm nice on ice the line slice your dome

And separate rhymes from poems

My life....

Ain't tryin to see no grammy or oscar

Best believe these styles will rub off like pastas

On people yo check Dilated Evidence

The influential rock rhymes in sequential format

You'll see the doormat if you acting disaccordingly

Something to the effect of fatboys and disorderlies

[Mad Child]

I'll take you from he man to shira

Battlecat to cringer

Midevil Messenger, westcoast avenger

Take it to the street battle me? That's a fucking sin

Go one round with Mad Child you'll be sucking wind

Snapping handcuffs just for de-concentration

Then I broke out the bus - a mental hospital patient

On a weekend pass but I still come sick

Psychopathic you're dealing with a deranged lunatic

Soon to kick your teeth in, and then go berserk

Even Van Gogh looked at me and said you're one piece of work

So I said lend me an ear, cause I'm the state of the art

First I'll feast on your brain, then rip your body apart

There's a party of heart stuck inbetween my fangs

Wrap a rope 'round your neck, and you still couldn't hang

'Cause you're way off track, you need realignment

Murdering masterpieces in solitary confinement

[Everlast]

I'll keep your backside open like the english channel

I rock the sure shot, I keep it hot like flannel

I'll survey your panel with my foot up in your anal

You think it can't happen? Kid, cause I'm rappin'?

Ain't no gun clappin' cut the jaw jackin'

Let the joints get shot and see where it's not

Then kick off your shoes jump off my jock

And check the new style Whitey Ford's prone to rock

Once upon a time, not long ago

Before Hip Hop was made for the radio

An MC show had to co-rock the masses

Used to wear a kangol with the clear gazelle glasses

So bang bang boogie up jump the party

Someone clapped off and scattered everybody

Drunk off bacardi, high off the trauma

It's death from above the livest dive bomber

In the squadron I break formation

I get New York love like my name's Ken Son

??At tea?? they rock bells till they break the dawn

Steady puffin owl's and fight hell like spawn

My moves are animated my crew's reinstated

While you cats suspension's up in my dimensions

We can ease tensions or we can get rowdy

So I'ma keep it on the love and do my duty/doody like howdy

[Divine Styler]

Direction short term plan regionalize rhyme boards

With the hordes - I'm satan dynasty killer

Refill the chords with the sling on down

Venom spit regurgitate def scripts I sound

Cylinder never python, prevail Mad Child

Physical justic can't rush this for now

Move fake of the game time set backs don't sweat that

God don't test that - too much infinite to get at

Space to fills all the members got the illa drills

And if you with the rhyme skill

Bust the revealings of my feelings of these dealings

Will the represent shall

I build three phases of death

The illusion is to sweat that you reflect

When you feel the veil

Divine Styles circumnavigate nine circles of hell

You keep on you don't stop 'cause a nigga never stay stale

WudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWudaWhat I'm saying is is that...

You ain't you ain't ready for that shit [echoes]