False Things Must Perish Lyrics
| Song | False Things Must Perish |
| Artist | Gravediggaz |
| Album | Nightmare in A-Minor |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Berkeley, Hamilton, Thomas | |
| (feat. Prodical) | |
| [Intro: Frukwan] | |
| Hahaha! Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| Yeah, yo, check it, check it, one-two | |
| Gravediggaz, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| We on ya ass, watch the happ's of the gun blast | |
| [Chorus: Poetic] | |
| False Things Must Perish [x4] | |
| [Frukwan] | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Judas, Xavier, Sampson, Goliath | |
| Now and nowadays, Gatekeep', livin' Messiah | |
| Porphecize, historically, the wise category | |
| Superiority in the game, explain my story | |
| Dopeful lavish, they're doin' that like a savage | |
| Concentrate, basin' my inner faith and pushin' karats | |
| Rappin' the average, speakin' on riches | |
| Teachin' that all of mankind is actin' dumb, deaf and blind | |
| Beatin' with stripes, worshippin' the glitter of lights | |
| Callin' the Twilight Zone, 'pendin' on cellular phones | |
| Batteries low, got no dough, what's facin' you? | |
| Sportin' ya jewels, and twenty-seven niggas chasin' you | |
| Ultimate blast, constantly repeatin' a path | |
| In an attempt to represent, our class be exec. | |
| To get higher, for what you desire | |
| Yo nigga, yo' blood shall be required | |
| Give it here.. | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Poetic] | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Fix ya face, y'all know the tricks of the trade | |
| Trade ya six for the eight, spit the case | |
| Face fire and escape on tracks, raise the facts | |
| I annihi-late the wack, I'm tired of these fakes on wax | |
| We all wanna shine but we all don't seem to have the mind | |
| To design schemes that align teams, just a crime scene of blind teens | |
| In the rap kingdom, where cats keep | |
| Bling-a-ling-a-lingin' | |
| And it's fine, I love it when the black man shines | |
| Bringin' hope to the habitat where fiends do dope, snort coke | |
| And carry battleaxes, players rock Cadillacs, hunched in their seat | |
| Pumpin' the beat when stompin' the street, they come with the heat | |
| Cuz flamboyant niggas get punched in the teeth | |
| When they front in the beat, but who brings relief | |
| For the average nine-to-five cat carry his grief? | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Prodical] | |
| Brook-nam, grace and charm, stay calm but chron's hit Lebanon | |
| Black man but ortho' green Leprechaun from Lexington | |
| Don't disrespect Sunn, I crack ya face with the gun | |
| Smack ya taste outta ya dunn, look at ya fam on the run | |
| Now y'all respect Sunn, shine all type direction | |
| Right connection with the right perfections, recite a lesson | |
| But my weapon reign automatic projection | |
| Blow out ya reception, hose through ya reflection | |
| Solid gold complexion, stay swoll to perfection | |
| Did a fifteen, me and my team, supreme legends | |
| Twenty-one-two, still gettin' money with the Wu | |
| Up in the Cayman Islands, bitches sweeter than honey dew | |
| And I made moves, paid dues and slayed crews | |
| Y'all niggas fakin' jacks on tracks, look out for the steel bat | |
| I live it real black, ill with my format, my war tac's | |
| Worth divine, alphabetically spilt | |
| [Chorus] |
| zuo ci : Berkeley, Hamilton, Thomas | |
| feat. Prodical | |
| Intro: Frukwan | |
| Hahaha! Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| Yeah, yo, check it, check it, onetwo | |
| Gravediggaz, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| We on ya ass, watch the happ' s of the gun blast | |
| Chorus: Poetic | |
| False Things Must Perish x4 | |
| Frukwan | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Judas, Xavier, Sampson, Goliath | |
| Now and nowadays, Gatekeep', livin' Messiah | |
| Porphecize, historically, the wise category | |
| Superiority in the game, explain my story | |
| Dopeful lavish, they' re doin' that like a savage | |
| Concentrate, basin' my inner faith and pushin' karats | |
| Rappin' the average, speakin' on riches | |
| Teachin' that all of mankind is actin' dumb, deaf and blind | |
| Beatin' with stripes, worshippin' the glitter of lights | |
| Callin' the Twilight Zone, ' pendin' on cellular phones | |
| Batteries low, got no dough, what' s facin' you? | |
| Sportin' ya jewels, and twentyseven niggas chasin' you | |
| Ultimate blast, constantly repeatin' a path | |
| In an attempt to represent, our class be exec. | |
| To get higher, for what you desire | |
| Yo nigga, yo' blood shall be required | |
| Give it here.. | |
| Chorus | |
| Poetic | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Fix ya face, y' all know the tricks of the trade | |
| Trade ya six for the eight, spit the case | |
| Face fire and escape on tracks, raise the facts | |
| I annihilate the wack, I' m tired of these fakes on wax | |
| We all wanna shine but we all don' t seem to have the mind | |
| To design schemes that align teams, just a crime scene of blind teens | |
| In the rap kingdom, where cats keep | |
| Blingalingalingin' | |
| And it' s fine, I love it when the black man shines | |
| Bringin' hope to the habitat where fiends do dope, snort coke | |
| And carry battleaxes, players rock Cadillacs, hunched in their seat | |
| Pumpin' the beat when stompin' the street, they come with the heat | |
| Cuz flamboyant niggas get punched in the teeth | |
| When they front in the beat, but who brings relief | |
| For the average ninetofive cat carry his grief? | |
| Chorus | |
| Prodical | |
| Brooknam, grace and charm, stay calm but chron' s hit Lebanon | |
| Black man but ortho' green Leprechaun from Lexington | |
| Don' t disrespect Sunn, I crack ya face with the gun | |
| Smack ya taste outta ya dunn, look at ya fam on the run | |
| Now y' all respect Sunn, shine all type direction | |
| Right connection with the right perfections, recite a lesson | |
| But my weapon reign automatic projection | |
| Blow out ya reception, hose through ya reflection | |
| Solid gold complexion, stay swoll to perfection | |
| Did a fifteen, me and my team, supreme legends | |
| Twentyonetwo, still gettin' money with the Wu | |
| Up in the Cayman Islands, bitches sweeter than honey dew | |
| And I made moves, paid dues and slayed crews | |
| Y' all niggas fakin' jacks on tracks, look out for the steel bat | |
| I live it real black, ill with my format, my war tac' s | |
| Worth divine, alphabetically spilt | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : Berkeley, Hamilton, Thomas | |
| feat. Prodical | |
| Intro: Frukwan | |
| Hahaha! Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| Yeah, yo, check it, check it, onetwo | |
| Gravediggaz, yo, yo, yo, yo | |
| We on ya ass, watch the happ' s of the gun blast | |
| Chorus: Poetic | |
| False Things Must Perish x4 | |
| Frukwan | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Judas, Xavier, Sampson, Goliath | |
| Now and nowadays, Gatekeep', livin' Messiah | |
| Porphecize, historically, the wise category | |
| Superiority in the game, explain my story | |
| Dopeful lavish, they' re doin' that like a savage | |
| Concentrate, basin' my inner faith and pushin' karats | |
| Rappin' the average, speakin' on riches | |
| Teachin' that all of mankind is actin' dumb, deaf and blind | |
| Beatin' with stripes, worshippin' the glitter of lights | |
| Callin' the Twilight Zone, ' pendin' on cellular phones | |
| Batteries low, got no dough, what' s facin' you? | |
| Sportin' ya jewels, and twentyseven niggas chasin' you | |
| Ultimate blast, constantly repeatin' a path | |
| In an attempt to represent, our class be exec. | |
| To get higher, for what you desire | |
| Yo nigga, yo' blood shall be required | |
| Give it here.. | |
| Chorus | |
| Poetic | |
| Yo, yo, yo | |
| Fix ya face, y' all know the tricks of the trade | |
| Trade ya six for the eight, spit the case | |
| Face fire and escape on tracks, raise the facts | |
| I annihilate the wack, I' m tired of these fakes on wax | |
| We all wanna shine but we all don' t seem to have the mind | |
| To design schemes that align teams, just a crime scene of blind teens | |
| In the rap kingdom, where cats keep | |
| Blingalingalingin' | |
| And it' s fine, I love it when the black man shines | |
| Bringin' hope to the habitat where fiends do dope, snort coke | |
| And carry battleaxes, players rock Cadillacs, hunched in their seat | |
| Pumpin' the beat when stompin' the street, they come with the heat | |
| Cuz flamboyant niggas get punched in the teeth | |
| When they front in the beat, but who brings relief | |
| For the average ninetofive cat carry his grief? | |
| Chorus | |
| Prodical | |
| Brooknam, grace and charm, stay calm but chron' s hit Lebanon | |
| Black man but ortho' green Leprechaun from Lexington | |
| Don' t disrespect Sunn, I crack ya face with the gun | |
| Smack ya taste outta ya dunn, look at ya fam on the run | |
| Now y' all respect Sunn, shine all type direction | |
| Right connection with the right perfections, recite a lesson | |
| But my weapon reign automatic projection | |
| Blow out ya reception, hose through ya reflection | |
| Solid gold complexion, stay swoll to perfection | |
| Did a fifteen, me and my team, supreme legends | |
| Twentyonetwo, still gettin' money with the Wu | |
| Up in the Cayman Islands, bitches sweeter than honey dew | |
| And I made moves, paid dues and slayed crews | |
| Y' all niggas fakin' jacks on tracks, look out for the steel bat | |
| I live it real black, ill with my format, my war tac' s | |
| Worth divine, alphabetically spilt | |
| Chorus |
Similar Songs
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)