Verbal Experiments Lyrics
| Song | Verbal Experiments |
| Artist | Lootpack |
| Album | Soundpieces: Da Antidote! |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez ... | |
| Intro: Madlib | |
| Hah Hahahah... | |
| From the dungeons of darkness | |
| Comes God's | |
| Gift to Hip | |
| Hop Representin' with the | |
| LP [God's Gift] | |
| We'll hit 'em hard and fast in a straight line | |
| Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise | |
| Operation sunray, | |
| UV radiation | |
| First breach their outer barriers then continue penetration | |
| To their central point, crushin' their nucleus | |
| Rushing their central brain command | |
| Planting a virus that expands | |
| Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications | |
| To your ya bodily functions | |
| Handicapping your defenses | |
| Swiftly attacking your unit, | |
| Neutralizing | |
| MC's By ripping 'em apart before they even know what hit 'em | |
| Style blitz [Wild Child] | |
| Jack gets pissed off, wack | |
| MC's step up and get lost | |
| The rhythmic boss, | |
| Jack spits rhymes through my teeth like floss | |
| I bust with motivation to uplift | |
| MC's with | |
| High above controlling stratus clouds, my man | |
| God's Gift | |
| Come down, assist us, wack | |
| MC's must be reminded | |
| Get a Lootpack tape, rewind it, for those closed minded | |
| To the abstract we kick, we rock all places | |
| I found out | |
| MC's aren't human cuz they got two faces | |
| They be chillin', willin', always time killin' | |
| Wack rumor spillin' while | |
| Jack be still in charge | |
| Asking me if | |
| I smoke chronic, niggas it's ironic | |
| I'm Wild Child, 80% human, 20% bionic | |
| My main occupation is to step up and rock the nation | |
| Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation | |
| So if you ain't down, don't front, worry about your health | |
| Worry about your wack crew and ya wack ass self [Madlib] | |
| Hey yo, here comes the | |
| Master Don, here to renovate | |
| My style hits ya like marble weights so pass the dinner plate | |
| But pass up the swine like money ya rhyme lime | |
| Madlib done told ya time and time again | |
| Find the mental maze, faster ya plaster your instrumental | |
| With lyrical disaster till you scream out "Who's the master?" | |
| I flip it up rip it up to raw addict, | |
| Crate diggin' for the static when | |
| I mad beat shop | |
| Impulse down to prestige and | |
| Black Jazz 21st | |
| Century enja got mad | |
| Record labels of the old, ill loop and take 'em out | |
| I keep it secret when a nigga tries to peep shit | |
| My beat hit like a | |
| Roy Jones | |
| Jr. skit Your girl starin so now you wanna flip | |
| I rip it down to the | |
| Loot while ya yell peace | |
| While I pull out my piece, yell peace but now leave ya in pieces | |
| But at least you escaped this beast | |
| Smokin' on a cushin' leaf while ya try to bring grief [God's Gift] | |
| Now something's shaking in the palace, can't you feel the | |
| Santa Ana | |
| Switching currents and building velocity, it got's to be | |
| God's Gift and | |
| Lootpack, mentally superior master race of lyricists | |
| Conductiong verbal experiments | |
| With open and imaginitive creativity | |
| Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically | |
| Complete, grown and fully developed adults | |
| Trained in mastering total blitz coastal, total assaults | |
| Also we launch all out war when we tour your area | |
| First destroying your local underground spots | |
| Rocked your major clubs and plugged into your theatres | |
| Advancing as hip hop's vocabulary leaders | |
| Hostile take-overs is our main focus | |
| As the deadliest of | |
| CDP special attack forces | |
| Basically, | |
| MC's lack division is appalling | |
| Third rate styles with the nerve to say they're vocalists | |
| Out of focus, often it's the people they run with | |
| Coupled with their own wackness, they're futureless! "And keep feedin you, and feedin you..." - ' | |
| Method Man' by | |
| Wu-Tang Clan *scratches and various talk to end* |
| zuo qu : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez ... | |
| Intro: Madlib | |
| Hah Hahahah... | |
| From the dungeons of darkness | |
| Comes God' s | |
| Gift to Hip | |
| Hop Representin' with the | |
| LP God' s Gift | |
| We' ll hit ' em hard and fast in a straight line | |
| Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise | |
| Operation sunray, | |
| UV radiation | |
| First breach their outer barriers then continue penetration | |
| To their central point, crushin' their nucleus | |
| Rushing their central brain command | |
| Planting a virus that expands | |
| Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications | |
| To your ya bodily functions | |
| Handicapping your defenses | |
| Swiftly attacking your unit, | |
| Neutralizing | |
| MC' s By ripping ' em apart before they even know what hit ' em | |
| Style blitz Wild Child | |
| Jack gets pissed off, wack | |
| MC' s step up and get lost | |
| The rhythmic boss, | |
| Jack spits rhymes through my teeth like floss | |
| I bust with motivation to uplift | |
| MC' s with | |
| High above controlling stratus clouds, my man | |
| God' s Gift | |
| Come down, assist us, wack | |
| MC' s must be reminded | |
| Get a Lootpack tape, rewind it, for those closed minded | |
| To the abstract we kick, we rock all places | |
| I found out | |
| MC' s aren' t human cuz they got two faces | |
| They be chillin', willin', always time killin' | |
| Wack rumor spillin' while | |
| Jack be still in charge | |
| Asking me if | |
| I smoke chronic, niggas it' s ironic | |
| I' m Wild Child, 80 human, 20 bionic | |
| My main occupation is to step up and rock the nation | |
| Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation | |
| So if you ain' t down, don' t front, worry about your health | |
| Worry about your wack crew and ya wack ass self Madlib | |
| Hey yo, here comes the | |
| Master Don, here to renovate | |
| My style hits ya like marble weights so pass the dinner plate | |
| But pass up the swine like money ya rhyme lime | |
| Madlib done told ya time and time again | |
| Find the mental maze, faster ya plaster your instrumental | |
| With lyrical disaster till you scream out " Who' s the master?" | |
| I flip it up rip it up to raw addict, | |
| Crate diggin' for the static when | |
| I mad beat shop | |
| Impulse down to prestige and | |
| Black Jazz 21st | |
| Century enja got mad | |
| Record labels of the old, ill loop and take ' em out | |
| I keep it secret when a nigga tries to peep shit | |
| My beat hit like a | |
| Roy Jones | |
| Jr. skit Your girl starin so now you wanna flip | |
| I rip it down to the | |
| Loot while ya yell peace | |
| While I pull out my piece, yell peace but now leave ya in pieces | |
| But at least you escaped this beast | |
| Smokin' on a cushin' leaf while ya try to bring grief God' s Gift | |
| Now something' s shaking in the palace, can' t you feel the | |
| Santa Ana | |
| Switching currents and building velocity, it got' s to be | |
| God' s Gift and | |
| Lootpack, mentally superior master race of lyricists | |
| Conductiong verbal experiments | |
| With open and imaginitive creativity | |
| Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically | |
| Complete, grown and fully developed adults | |
| Trained in mastering total blitz coastal, total assaults | |
| Also we launch all out war when we tour your area | |
| First destroying your local underground spots | |
| Rocked your major clubs and plugged into your theatres | |
| Advancing as hip hop' s vocabulary leaders | |
| Hostile takeovers is our main focus | |
| As the deadliest of | |
| CDP special attack forces | |
| Basically, | |
| MC' s lack division is appalling | |
| Third rate styles with the nerve to say they' re vocalists | |
| Out of focus, often it' s the people they run with | |
| Coupled with their own wackness, they' re futureless! " And keep feedin you, and feedin you..." ' | |
| Method Man' by | |
| WuTang Clan scratches and various talk to end |
| zuò qǔ : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez ... | |
| Intro: Madlib | |
| Hah Hahahah... | |
| From the dungeons of darkness | |
| Comes God' s | |
| Gift to Hip | |
| Hop Representin' with the | |
| LP God' s Gift | |
| We' ll hit ' em hard and fast in a straight line | |
| Concentrating all firepower to their blindside at sunrise | |
| Operation sunray, | |
| UV radiation | |
| First breach their outer barriers then continue penetration | |
| To their central point, crushin' their nucleus | |
| Rushing their central brain command | |
| Planting a virus that expands | |
| Through your whole nervous system shutting down all communications | |
| To your ya bodily functions | |
| Handicapping your defenses | |
| Swiftly attacking your unit, | |
| Neutralizing | |
| MC' s By ripping ' em apart before they even know what hit ' em | |
| Style blitz Wild Child | |
| Jack gets pissed off, wack | |
| MC' s step up and get lost | |
| The rhythmic boss, | |
| Jack spits rhymes through my teeth like floss | |
| I bust with motivation to uplift | |
| MC' s with | |
| High above controlling stratus clouds, my man | |
| God' s Gift | |
| Come down, assist us, wack | |
| MC' s must be reminded | |
| Get a Lootpack tape, rewind it, for those closed minded | |
| To the abstract we kick, we rock all places | |
| I found out | |
| MC' s aren' t human cuz they got two faces | |
| They be chillin', willin', always time killin' | |
| Wack rumor spillin' while | |
| Jack be still in charge | |
| Asking me if | |
| I smoke chronic, niggas it' s ironic | |
| I' m Wild Child, 80 human, 20 bionic | |
| My main occupation is to step up and rock the nation | |
| Focus up upon my jam and blow up just like inflation | |
| So if you ain' t down, don' t front, worry about your health | |
| Worry about your wack crew and ya wack ass self Madlib | |
| Hey yo, here comes the | |
| Master Don, here to renovate | |
| My style hits ya like marble weights so pass the dinner plate | |
| But pass up the swine like money ya rhyme lime | |
| Madlib done told ya time and time again | |
| Find the mental maze, faster ya plaster your instrumental | |
| With lyrical disaster till you scream out " Who' s the master?" | |
| I flip it up rip it up to raw addict, | |
| Crate diggin' for the static when | |
| I mad beat shop | |
| Impulse down to prestige and | |
| Black Jazz 21st | |
| Century enja got mad | |
| Record labels of the old, ill loop and take ' em out | |
| I keep it secret when a nigga tries to peep shit | |
| My beat hit like a | |
| Roy Jones | |
| Jr. skit Your girl starin so now you wanna flip | |
| I rip it down to the | |
| Loot while ya yell peace | |
| While I pull out my piece, yell peace but now leave ya in pieces | |
| But at least you escaped this beast | |
| Smokin' on a cushin' leaf while ya try to bring grief God' s Gift | |
| Now something' s shaking in the palace, can' t you feel the | |
| Santa Ana | |
| Switching currents and building velocity, it got' s to be | |
| God' s Gift and | |
| Lootpack, mentally superior master race of lyricists | |
| Conductiong verbal experiments | |
| With open and imaginitive creativity | |
| Fathering styles from infancy to be lyrically | |
| Complete, grown and fully developed adults | |
| Trained in mastering total blitz coastal, total assaults | |
| Also we launch all out war when we tour your area | |
| First destroying your local underground spots | |
| Rocked your major clubs and plugged into your theatres | |
| Advancing as hip hop' s vocabulary leaders | |
| Hostile takeovers is our main focus | |
| As the deadliest of | |
| CDP special attack forces | |
| Basically, | |
| MC' s lack division is appalling | |
| Third rate styles with the nerve to say they' re vocalists | |
| Out of focus, often it' s the people they run with | |
| Coupled with their own wackness, they' re futureless! " And keep feedin you, and feedin you..." ' | |
| Method Man' by | |
| WuTang Clan scratches and various talk to end |
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