Nonchalantly Lyrics
| Song | Nonchalantly |
| Artist | Killarmy |
| Album | Fear, Love & War |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Dawar, Delvalle, Hamilin ... | |
| (9th Prince) | |
| Eh-yo, eh-yo.. | |
| 9th Prince, attack like Greg Valentine | |
| With a sledgehammer, figure 4 bodyslammer | |
| Decrease ya stamina, verbal heart damager | |
| I'm half man, half monster like Bruce Banner | |
| Camouflage Scorpion vendetta with a black Beretta, serial killer | |
| Federal Expressman, FedEx, send deathbed letter, sticky cheddar | |
| Verbal terrorist, I'm livin in a street life of rage | |
| Machine gun sprayed and wet up the whole stage | |
| Iron junk, metal razor blades I cough | |
| Camouflaged for law, I'm raw like the Eagle Claw | |
| My tunes of glory, war stories took place inside a laboratory | |
| Whispers in the dark, I think I hear fallen soldiers callin me | |
| Rap battle cats trapped in combat | |
| We hijackin planes, it's Islord, strap me with the gat to your back | |
| Camouflage guerillas performin drive-bys up on ya gangstas | |
| Strapped the Cadillacs, my lyrical assault murder weapon | |
| 'll blow ya rips out ya mid-secion | |
| Chinese connection with the Wu-Tang perfection | |
| (Beretta 9) | |
| Chamber 9's perfection, constitute we movin in son | |
| Shark style, peep the fin, pushin through right | |
| Strip arm' Heismen, I thought we wise men | |
| Don't make us act a fool, keep a calm, cool collective | |
| A nice perspective, it only takes for one cat to disrespect his | |
| Or ruin a show, oh what y'all ain't know | |
| that everything's real like blue steel | |
| bein pulled out at a sold out concert? | |
| The crowd went berzerk, here come the Jakes, red alert | |
| They got trampled on, a cop lost one arm | |
| Killarm' still live on stage on 'Red Dawn' | |
| Eh-yo, where 'The Obsticle'? Anything's possible | |
| 'Allah Sees Everything', kid, check the obsticle | |
| Beretta did his verse in the crowd, this kid's remarkable | |
| 9th punched a cat in the face, call the hospital | |
| 911 style, ShoGun cracked a smile | |
| Or push this cat innocent, through in the towel | |
| It's like life's insane, Dom P pop champagne | |
| And Is' came out of the crowd with 20 chains | |
| (Islord) | |
| Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly | |
| Still hittin fiends off monthly | |
| Cuz this rap shit ain't feedin me | |
| My physical is lookin real good but my insides is cryin | |
| Fiendin to catch like fifty analog niggas off point | |
| And tear pockets, so stay still, tell ya crew | |
| Don't move cuz I got like fifty-five keepin it live | |
| Tight niggas trapped with rockets, pointed at ya eye sockets | |
| Throwin ninety-nine joints at ya grill, you can't block it | |
| (P.R. Terrorist) | |
| Rebelious 1 who never like to carry small guns | |
| I like 'em big, bulky and shit, designed for ya wig | |
| And any pig that try and confront me and my cig' | |
| That bomb is rigged, ready to explode, get blow to Madrid | |
| You and ya fam, you and ya mans and all of your kids | |
| Because I'm nuts, spill on my guts like dry heavin | |
| A fly even, cat that never split his pie even | |
| Get caught in my life of fire and die weezin | |
| And the man who seen it go down for no apparent reason | |
| Just breathin and believin that it's pockets that I be grazin | |
| He's deceived and relieved with dollar sign eyes gleamin | |
| War ringin, diva bitch in my bed, she's soul singin | |
| With my mic, suckin it right, my son's outside slingin | |
| Beige snowballs, snot drip from his nose, eatin the Halls | |
| I got a show, later tonight, I met into the mall | |
| I'll grab you somethin, if you see Fantasia tell her she frontin | |
| Cuz I had her way in my lab and didn't fuck nothin | |
| Life's somethin, somedays I be feelin like sniper's up in | |
| Writin somethin that'll change the whole world, the lightnin comin | |
| with this black ink all over these white sheets | |
| Run like a track meet with a fleet | |
| of killas and shit, don't even compete {*pause*} | |
| Yo.. | |
| In a herd of white wool, label the black sheep | |
| Tap dancin on fire, the kid with bronze feet | |
| Terrorist snatchin the track, leavin the gold teeth | |
| All you playas, killas, dogs, thugs - make it brief | |
| {*echoes*} |
| zuo qu : Dawar, Delvalle, Hamilin ... | |
| 9th Prince | |
| Ehyo, ehyo.. | |
| 9th Prince, attack like Greg Valentine | |
| With a sledgehammer, figure 4 bodyslammer | |
| Decrease ya stamina, verbal heart damager | |
| I' m half man, half monster like Bruce Banner | |
| Camouflage Scorpion vendetta with a black Beretta, serial killer | |
| Federal Expressman, FedEx, send deathbed letter, sticky cheddar | |
| Verbal terrorist, I' m livin in a street life of rage | |
| Machine gun sprayed and wet up the whole stage | |
| Iron junk, metal razor blades I cough | |
| Camouflaged for law, I' m raw like the Eagle Claw | |
| My tunes of glory, war stories took place inside a laboratory | |
| Whispers in the dark, I think I hear fallen soldiers callin me | |
| Rap battle cats trapped in combat | |
| We hijackin planes, it' s Islord, strap me with the gat to your back | |
| Camouflage guerillas performin drivebys up on ya gangstas | |
| Strapped the Cadillacs, my lyrical assault murder weapon | |
| ' ll blow ya rips out ya midsecion | |
| Chinese connection with the WuTang perfection | |
| Beretta 9 | |
| Chamber 9' s perfection, constitute we movin in son | |
| Shark style, peep the fin, pushin through right | |
| Strip arm' Heismen, I thought we wise men | |
| Don' t make us act a fool, keep a calm, cool collective | |
| A nice perspective, it only takes for one cat to disrespect his | |
| Or ruin a show, oh what y' all ain' t know | |
| that everything' s real like blue steel | |
| bein pulled out at a sold out concert? | |
| The crowd went berzerk, here come the Jakes, red alert | |
| They got trampled on, a cop lost one arm | |
| Killarm' still live on stage on ' Red Dawn' | |
| Ehyo, where ' The Obsticle'? Anything' s possible | |
| ' Allah Sees Everything', kid, check the obsticle | |
| Beretta did his verse in the crowd, this kid' s remarkable | |
| 9th punched a cat in the face, call the hospital | |
| 911 style, ShoGun cracked a smile | |
| Or push this cat innocent, through in the towel | |
| It' s like life' s insane, Dom P pop champagne | |
| And Is' came out of the crowd with 20 chains | |
| Islord | |
| Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly | |
| Still hittin fiends off monthly | |
| Cuz this rap shit ain' t feedin me | |
| My physical is lookin real good but my insides is cryin | |
| Fiendin to catch like fifty analog niggas off point | |
| And tear pockets, so stay still, tell ya crew | |
| Don' t move cuz I got like fiftyfive keepin it live | |
| Tight niggas trapped with rockets, pointed at ya eye sockets | |
| Throwin ninetynine joints at ya grill, you can' t block it | |
| P. R. Terrorist | |
| Rebelious 1 who never like to carry small guns | |
| I like ' em big, bulky and shit, designed for ya wig | |
| And any pig that try and confront me and my cig' | |
| That bomb is rigged, ready to explode, get blow to Madrid | |
| You and ya fam, you and ya mans and all of your kids | |
| Because I' m nuts, spill on my guts like dry heavin | |
| A fly even, cat that never split his pie even | |
| Get caught in my life of fire and die weezin | |
| And the man who seen it go down for no apparent reason | |
| Just breathin and believin that it' s pockets that I be grazin | |
| He' s deceived and relieved with dollar sign eyes gleamin | |
| War ringin, diva bitch in my bed, she' s soul singin | |
| With my mic, suckin it right, my son' s outside slingin | |
| Beige snowballs, snot drip from his nose, eatin the Halls | |
| I got a show, later tonight, I met into the mall | |
| I' ll grab you somethin, if you see Fantasia tell her she frontin | |
| Cuz I had her way in my lab and didn' t fuck nothin | |
| Life' s somethin, somedays I be feelin like sniper' s up in | |
| Writin somethin that' ll change the whole world, the lightnin comin | |
| with this black ink all over these white sheets | |
| Run like a track meet with a fleet | |
| of killas and shit, don' t even compete pause | |
| Yo.. | |
| In a herd of white wool, label the black sheep | |
| Tap dancin on fire, the kid with bronze feet | |
| Terrorist snatchin the track, leavin the gold teeth | |
| All you playas, killas, dogs, thugs make it brief | |
| echoes |
| zuò qǔ : Dawar, Delvalle, Hamilin ... | |
| 9th Prince | |
| Ehyo, ehyo.. | |
| 9th Prince, attack like Greg Valentine | |
| With a sledgehammer, figure 4 bodyslammer | |
| Decrease ya stamina, verbal heart damager | |
| I' m half man, half monster like Bruce Banner | |
| Camouflage Scorpion vendetta with a black Beretta, serial killer | |
| Federal Expressman, FedEx, send deathbed letter, sticky cheddar | |
| Verbal terrorist, I' m livin in a street life of rage | |
| Machine gun sprayed and wet up the whole stage | |
| Iron junk, metal razor blades I cough | |
| Camouflaged for law, I' m raw like the Eagle Claw | |
| My tunes of glory, war stories took place inside a laboratory | |
| Whispers in the dark, I think I hear fallen soldiers callin me | |
| Rap battle cats trapped in combat | |
| We hijackin planes, it' s Islord, strap me with the gat to your back | |
| Camouflage guerillas performin drivebys up on ya gangstas | |
| Strapped the Cadillacs, my lyrical assault murder weapon | |
| ' ll blow ya rips out ya midsecion | |
| Chinese connection with the WuTang perfection | |
| Beretta 9 | |
| Chamber 9' s perfection, constitute we movin in son | |
| Shark style, peep the fin, pushin through right | |
| Strip arm' Heismen, I thought we wise men | |
| Don' t make us act a fool, keep a calm, cool collective | |
| A nice perspective, it only takes for one cat to disrespect his | |
| Or ruin a show, oh what y' all ain' t know | |
| that everything' s real like blue steel | |
| bein pulled out at a sold out concert? | |
| The crowd went berzerk, here come the Jakes, red alert | |
| They got trampled on, a cop lost one arm | |
| Killarm' still live on stage on ' Red Dawn' | |
| Ehyo, where ' The Obsticle'? Anything' s possible | |
| ' Allah Sees Everything', kid, check the obsticle | |
| Beretta did his verse in the crowd, this kid' s remarkable | |
| 9th punched a cat in the face, call the hospital | |
| 911 style, ShoGun cracked a smile | |
| Or push this cat innocent, through in the towel | |
| It' s like life' s insane, Dom P pop champagne | |
| And Is' came out of the crowd with 20 chains | |
| Islord | |
| Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly | |
| Still hittin fiends off monthly | |
| Cuz this rap shit ain' t feedin me | |
| My physical is lookin real good but my insides is cryin | |
| Fiendin to catch like fifty analog niggas off point | |
| And tear pockets, so stay still, tell ya crew | |
| Don' t move cuz I got like fiftyfive keepin it live | |
| Tight niggas trapped with rockets, pointed at ya eye sockets | |
| Throwin ninetynine joints at ya grill, you can' t block it | |
| P. R. Terrorist | |
| Rebelious 1 who never like to carry small guns | |
| I like ' em big, bulky and shit, designed for ya wig | |
| And any pig that try and confront me and my cig' | |
| That bomb is rigged, ready to explode, get blow to Madrid | |
| You and ya fam, you and ya mans and all of your kids | |
| Because I' m nuts, spill on my guts like dry heavin | |
| A fly even, cat that never split his pie even | |
| Get caught in my life of fire and die weezin | |
| And the man who seen it go down for no apparent reason | |
| Just breathin and believin that it' s pockets that I be grazin | |
| He' s deceived and relieved with dollar sign eyes gleamin | |
| War ringin, diva bitch in my bed, she' s soul singin | |
| With my mic, suckin it right, my son' s outside slingin | |
| Beige snowballs, snot drip from his nose, eatin the Halls | |
| I got a show, later tonight, I met into the mall | |
| I' ll grab you somethin, if you see Fantasia tell her she frontin | |
| Cuz I had her way in my lab and didn' t fuck nothin | |
| Life' s somethin, somedays I be feelin like sniper' s up in | |
| Writin somethin that' ll change the whole world, the lightnin comin | |
| with this black ink all over these white sheets | |
| Run like a track meet with a fleet | |
| of killas and shit, don' t even compete pause | |
| Yo.. | |
| In a herd of white wool, label the black sheep | |
| Tap dancin on fire, the kid with bronze feet | |
| Terrorist snatchin the track, leavin the gold teeth | |
| All you playas, killas, dogs, thugs make it brief | |
| echoes |
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