Souls of Mischief - Make Your Mind Up lyrics

rate me

A-plus:

Hieroglyphics is

Gonna twist a kid's cerebellum

If he lives, then I tell 'im

I'll leave his head swellin'

When tellin' fellas about the 5-6,

Live it's me investigatin' fly chick's privates

I got a plan, I got a plan, a strategy

Adam be mad. A G mad at me cuz I got a phatta salary

Actually, you will be cookin' like bottom rhymin'

Never top, cuz you'll never stop the atom bombin'

Hiroshima, Nagasaki

Don't copy

The manuscript

Man, you slipped

You're sloppy

Joe Schmo, never no more

I'm clever and you're

Never gonna score

Cuz I'm sure

I'm better and pure

Like cannibus

And if it's possible

I'll drop a new

Line with the lyrics

Live with the spirit and soul

I got plenty in me

Eeny-meeny-miny-mo

Slo-Mo

Approach

With yo ho, yup,

Cuz I'm the man and you can read it in Genesis

A-D-A-M,

The A-P-L-U-S

One and the same,

Runnin' the game on fly chicks

Real tight,

So they feel right

With the 5-6

And it's like that,

And that's how it is, G

The skins I cross

Get tossed like a frisbee

Search and find lines of life in my scripture

Screens make me seen

So the keen get the picture

Opio:

Eruptions, and rustin'

When I'm thrustin'

Cuts men

Into microscopic particles

Molecules, atoms

Attack 'em, hack 'em

Never slow, never slack

I'm invincible, _________ flow is intense at fools

Who know not, flow not like this wizard

Ya play with it, riddle

Widdle a hole in ya dome

And pull out ya gizzard

Trachiotomy

I slaughtta the

Watery-weak

Ya slips, there's a slobbly geek

Niggaz tweek

When I speak

They retreat,

Rethink what was spoken and then repeat

My feat

Of inhuman capabilities

Rape and pillage emcees

Then I kill emcees

Who have no style

I file niggaz down to the cuticle

Who can feel my foot prints

Soot gets kicked in your eye, beautiful

Blinding, Winding

Up and change-ups

Rearrange punks

When I drops, kerplunk!

Rip chunks

Out the mic

And then digest

Why test?

I'm cavin' in your chest when I express

Myself

Extreme confusion

You think you're losin' your mind

Cuz my rhyme cuts holes like a nine

Tajai:

Tajai. Two syllables. Easy

With ease, we

Seize thee,

But emcees be

Cuz they come wacker than batman sound effects

I ground your text

But vertebrae wack. I pound your necks

Sally bone,

I be prone

To rip shit, likely

Believe it or not, believe it I got the cock- D

Cacophony

I cap the phonies, so there is no needs for me

Your attempts deceive us

And pimps know I be

Excel irate

And on that scale

That's fail

The countenances

Of countless knit-wits

Who wish this

With mis hits

But this shit is equipped with

Homin' devices that are precise as they get, kids

Target's stuck to foes who pose muchly

Fronts be phucked and

Punk nuts, why gets amongst thee

Punks, we often cross

When soft men

Is the image portrayed to them

Spinach is no saviour when

I pop eyes, all of the guys feel my brutish

Strength, and wimpies see haggard futures

Don't tempt me

Shrimps we skewered on the bar-b

My foot has found wit in ya

Is there any dillemma?

Yo- hardly