Reelishymn Lyrics
| Song | Reelishymn |
| Artist | Ras Kass |
| Album | Soul On Ice |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Austin | |
| Hook: Well | |
| I think I'm going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I'm going out of my head, | |
| I think I'm, think | |
| I'm, think | |
| I'm.... Life's a bitch then you never come back... | |
| Yo! peep the realness... | |
| Verse One: | |
| I'm a shadow of my former self | |
| So when the sun sets west, | |
| I rock and slap box with hip-hop; | |
| Cuz its much harder to get props than it is to fall off and flop | |
| I payed dues til | |
| I paid do nots. | |
| And will never will what you say affect the outcome -- | |
| See, momma always told me opinions are like assholes; | |
| Cuz everyone has got one. | |
| But you couldn't tell me shit if | |
| I stepped in it. | |
| Once I enter psychosis, paranormal, focus | |
| I perplex niggas and niggettes, | |
| I play this rap shit closer than gilettes against the neck and juglar vien | |
| Blowing out my own ****ing brain without lead projectiles, | |
| Bled when | |
| I project styles and meanwhile, existence is a life sentence | |
| And since | |
| I'm broke | |
| I take the risk, forced to hustle ' | |
| Cuz raw power moves, require muscle knowing | |
| I'm going out trife | |
| Already got one strike, two more and that's life without possibility of paroll | |
| Having to stroll in my shoes ain't easy | |
| Lookin' forward to 3 hots from a cell block ****in' my fifi nigga feel me? ' | |
| Cuz if it ain't the cancer sticks | |
| I hit this hypertension's gonna kill me | |
| And **** a platinum plaque, all | |
| I want is a niggas dap | |
| And enough snaps to put clothes on my daughters back | |
| Steph. See this without an optometrist | |
| I'm stuck in the middle of this bitch - | |
| Like ya momma's gynacologist. | |
| Make a radio hit - headz criticize it; | |
| Underground classic - nobody buys it: | |
| So, rap is ****ed | |
| And everything blowing up sounds redundant | |
| But money talks and bullshit does 9 flat in the hundred | |
| And goddamn if | |
| I don't slam my wallets in danger | |
| So I'm coming out like unborn baby's with hangers | |
| And chronic stress is comtemplated so **** being high | |
| Ras Kass is elevated | |
| Chorus: Well | |
| I think I'm going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I'm going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I'm going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I'm going out of my head | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Who can I blame cuz my skull can't contain these thought waves | |
| My syntax hydroplanes as though my brain | |
| Slides over liquidated grains of asphault caught cranial calluses | |
| Over analysis leads to paralysis, mediocrity my nemesis | |
| Try to **** every radical feminist | |
| I meet, call it engage and defeat | |
| That's the reason why black men hide in the womb, homes | |
| Cuz life is all taxes and tombstones | |
| So as flesh and bone | |
| I zone my thoughts explode with rap shranel syntax; | |
| That'll wax to the past, and present the future of | |
| Ras Kass lies in the skull | |
| Like the coronal suture | |
| So I write truly fat shit for the core audience | |
| But sometimes | |
| I wonder does it really exist? | |
| Cuz true lyricists in hip-hop | |
| Joe Public be dissin | |
| Niggas don't relate | |
| Elevate and its treated like elevator music | |
| Cuz' nigga don't listen | |
| But ridicle is the burden of genius | |
| Have you ever seen this socioeconomic gullitine rip? | |
| A nigga's hopes and dreams | |
| And now I'm lead to believe that life is all about | |
| CREAM I'm living a life idealistically principle over profit | |
| But realistically good intentions are micropic to fat pockets | |
| Exploitation is world's oldest occupation | |
| And it's the task of | |
| Jamaican chicken when a nigga gets jerked | |
| Causing me to revert to verses - | |
| Versus snapping like your neighborhood post office worker (Before the Source and Rappages) | |
| Niggas said my rhyme wasn't fly now | |
| I have the juice like | |
| Omar Epps | |
| And crooked | |
| I Fools be on my dick like foreskin | |
| But what before then, so now when niggas prop me | |
| I'm skeptical | |
| Becuz this rap shit is extremely unethical | |
| And with slight notoriety comes anxiety | |
| Now I'm supposed to play celebrity when nobody celebrated me at my | |
| D.O.B And label reps wanna play me; | |
| But I'm familar with record company rule #4080: | |
| **** Luther and | |
| Sadie for talking food out my babies mouth denying sample clearance | |
| I'm losing my mind | |
| Outter body experience it's paranormal | |
| I say it ain't all good though | |
| So **** the world with an | |
| AIDS infected dildo (doggy style) | |
| Life's a bitch named monogamy -- you only get one -- | |
| I'm trapped in this path of pathology | |
| Chorus: And | |
| I think I'm going out of my head, check it, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I'm going out of my head, check it out, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I'm going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I'm going out of my head, it's the reelishymn | |
| Well, I think | |
| I'm x 7, Yes, | |
| I think I'm x 7... <fade> |
| zuo qu : Austin | |
| Hook: Well | |
| I think I' m going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, | |
| I think I' m, think | |
| I' m, think | |
| I' m.... Life' s a bitch then you never come back... | |
| Yo! peep the realness... | |
| Verse One: | |
| I' m a shadow of my former self | |
| So when the sun sets west, | |
| I rock and slap box with hiphop | |
| Cuz its much harder to get props than it is to fall off and flop | |
| I payed dues til | |
| I paid do nots. | |
| And will never will what you say affect the outcome | |
| See, momma always told me opinions are like assholes | |
| Cuz everyone has got one. | |
| But you couldn' t tell me shit if | |
| I stepped in it. | |
| Once I enter psychosis, paranormal, focus | |
| I perplex niggas and niggettes, | |
| I play this rap shit closer than gilettes against the neck and juglar vien | |
| Blowing out my own ing brain without lead projectiles, | |
| Bled when | |
| I project styles and meanwhile, existence is a life sentence | |
| And since | |
| I' m broke | |
| I take the risk, forced to hustle ' | |
| Cuz raw power moves, require muscle knowing | |
| I' m going out trife | |
| Already got one strike, two more and that' s life without possibility of paroll | |
| Having to stroll in my shoes ain' t easy | |
| Lookin' forward to 3 hots from a cell block in' my fifi nigga feel me? ' | |
| Cuz if it ain' t the cancer sticks | |
| I hit this hypertension' s gonna kill me | |
| And a platinum plaque, all | |
| I want is a niggas dap | |
| And enough snaps to put clothes on my daughters back | |
| Steph. See this without an optometrist | |
| I' m stuck in the middle of this bitch | |
| Like ya momma' s gynacologist. | |
| Make a radio hit headz criticize it | |
| Underground classic nobody buys it: | |
| So, rap is ed | |
| And everything blowing up sounds redundant | |
| But money talks and bullshit does 9 flat in the hundred | |
| And goddamn if | |
| I don' t slam my wallets in danger | |
| So I' m coming out like unborn baby' s with hangers | |
| And chronic stress is comtemplated so being high | |
| Ras Kass is elevated | |
| Chorus: Well | |
| I think I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I' m going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Who can I blame cuz my skull can' t contain these thought waves | |
| My syntax hydroplanes as though my brain | |
| Slides over liquidated grains of asphault caught cranial calluses | |
| Over analysis leads to paralysis, mediocrity my nemesis | |
| Try to every radical feminist | |
| I meet, call it engage and defeat | |
| That' s the reason why black men hide in the womb, homes | |
| Cuz life is all taxes and tombstones | |
| So as flesh and bone | |
| I zone my thoughts explode with rap shranel syntax | |
| That' ll wax to the past, and present the future of | |
| Ras Kass lies in the skull | |
| Like the coronal suture | |
| So I write truly fat shit for the core audience | |
| But sometimes | |
| I wonder does it really exist? | |
| Cuz true lyricists in hiphop | |
| Joe Public be dissin | |
| Niggas don' t relate | |
| Elevate and its treated like elevator music | |
| Cuz' nigga don' t listen | |
| But ridicle is the burden of genius | |
| Have you ever seen this socioeconomic gullitine rip? | |
| A nigga' s hopes and dreams | |
| And now I' m lead to believe that life is all about | |
| CREAM I' m living a life idealistically principle over profit | |
| But realistically good intentions are micropic to fat pockets | |
| Exploitation is world' s oldest occupation | |
| And it' s the task of | |
| Jamaican chicken when a nigga gets jerked | |
| Causing me to revert to verses | |
| Versus snapping like your neighborhood post office worker Before the Source and Rappages | |
| Niggas said my rhyme wasn' t fly now | |
| I have the juice like | |
| Omar Epps | |
| And crooked | |
| I Fools be on my dick like foreskin | |
| But what before then, so now when niggas prop me | |
| I' m skeptical | |
| Becuz this rap shit is extremely unethical | |
| And with slight notoriety comes anxiety | |
| Now I' m supposed to play celebrity when nobody celebrated me at my | |
| D. O. B And label reps wanna play me | |
| But I' m familar with record company rule 4080: | |
| Luther and | |
| Sadie for talking food out my babies mouth denying sample clearance | |
| I' m losing my mind | |
| Outter body experience it' s paranormal | |
| I say it ain' t all good though | |
| So the world with an | |
| AIDS infected dildo doggy style | |
| Life' s a bitch named monogamy you only get one | |
| I' m trapped in this path of pathology | |
| Chorus: And | |
| I think I' m going out of my head, check it, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, check it out, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, it' s the reelishymn | |
| Well, I think | |
| I' m x 7, Yes, | |
| I think I' m x 7... fade |
| zuò qǔ : Austin | |
| Hook: Well | |
| I think I' m going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, | |
| I think I' m, think | |
| I' m, think | |
| I' m.... Life' s a bitch then you never come back... | |
| Yo! peep the realness... | |
| Verse One: | |
| I' m a shadow of my former self | |
| So when the sun sets west, | |
| I rock and slap box with hiphop | |
| Cuz its much harder to get props than it is to fall off and flop | |
| I payed dues til | |
| I paid do nots. | |
| And will never will what you say affect the outcome | |
| See, momma always told me opinions are like assholes | |
| Cuz everyone has got one. | |
| But you couldn' t tell me shit if | |
| I stepped in it. | |
| Once I enter psychosis, paranormal, focus | |
| I perplex niggas and niggettes, | |
| I play this rap shit closer than gilettes against the neck and juglar vien | |
| Blowing out my own ing brain without lead projectiles, | |
| Bled when | |
| I project styles and meanwhile, existence is a life sentence | |
| And since | |
| I' m broke | |
| I take the risk, forced to hustle ' | |
| Cuz raw power moves, require muscle knowing | |
| I' m going out trife | |
| Already got one strike, two more and that' s life without possibility of paroll | |
| Having to stroll in my shoes ain' t easy | |
| Lookin' forward to 3 hots from a cell block in' my fifi nigga feel me? ' | |
| Cuz if it ain' t the cancer sticks | |
| I hit this hypertension' s gonna kill me | |
| And a platinum plaque, all | |
| I want is a niggas dap | |
| And enough snaps to put clothes on my daughters back | |
| Steph. See this without an optometrist | |
| I' m stuck in the middle of this bitch | |
| Like ya momma' s gynacologist. | |
| Make a radio hit headz criticize it | |
| Underground classic nobody buys it: | |
| So, rap is ed | |
| And everything blowing up sounds redundant | |
| But money talks and bullshit does 9 flat in the hundred | |
| And goddamn if | |
| I don' t slam my wallets in danger | |
| So I' m coming out like unborn baby' s with hangers | |
| And chronic stress is comtemplated so being high | |
| Ras Kass is elevated | |
| Chorus: Well | |
| I think I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I' m going out of my head | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Who can I blame cuz my skull can' t contain these thought waves | |
| My syntax hydroplanes as though my brain | |
| Slides over liquidated grains of asphault caught cranial calluses | |
| Over analysis leads to paralysis, mediocrity my nemesis | |
| Try to every radical feminist | |
| I meet, call it engage and defeat | |
| That' s the reason why black men hide in the womb, homes | |
| Cuz life is all taxes and tombstones | |
| So as flesh and bone | |
| I zone my thoughts explode with rap shranel syntax | |
| That' ll wax to the past, and present the future of | |
| Ras Kass lies in the skull | |
| Like the coronal suture | |
| So I write truly fat shit for the core audience | |
| But sometimes | |
| I wonder does it really exist? | |
| Cuz true lyricists in hiphop | |
| Joe Public be dissin | |
| Niggas don' t relate | |
| Elevate and its treated like elevator music | |
| Cuz' nigga don' t listen | |
| But ridicle is the burden of genius | |
| Have you ever seen this socioeconomic gullitine rip? | |
| A nigga' s hopes and dreams | |
| And now I' m lead to believe that life is all about | |
| CREAM I' m living a life idealistically principle over profit | |
| But realistically good intentions are micropic to fat pockets | |
| Exploitation is world' s oldest occupation | |
| And it' s the task of | |
| Jamaican chicken when a nigga gets jerked | |
| Causing me to revert to verses | |
| Versus snapping like your neighborhood post office worker Before the Source and Rappages | |
| Niggas said my rhyme wasn' t fly now | |
| I have the juice like | |
| Omar Epps | |
| And crooked | |
| I Fools be on my dick like foreskin | |
| But what before then, so now when niggas prop me | |
| I' m skeptical | |
| Becuz this rap shit is extremely unethical | |
| And with slight notoriety comes anxiety | |
| Now I' m supposed to play celebrity when nobody celebrated me at my | |
| D. O. B And label reps wanna play me | |
| But I' m familar with record company rule 4080: | |
| Luther and | |
| Sadie for talking food out my babies mouth denying sample clearance | |
| I' m losing my mind | |
| Outter body experience it' s paranormal | |
| I say it ain' t all good though | |
| So the world with an | |
| AIDS infected dildo doggy style | |
| Life' s a bitch named monogamy you only get one | |
| I' m trapped in this path of pathology | |
| Chorus: And | |
| I think I' m going out of my head, check it, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, check it out, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Well I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, reelishymn, reelishymn | |
| Yes, I think | |
| I' m going out of my head, it' s the reelishymn | |
| Well, I think | |
| I' m x 7, Yes, | |
| I think I' m x 7... fade |
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