Bumps**t Lyrics
| Song | Bumps**t |
| Artist | Souls of Mischief |
| Album | No Man's Land |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
| "Its the- | |
| Ill Plusta Phesto D., | |
| O. Lindsey, | |
| T. Massey so whatchyou wanna be?? | |
| Us!! | |
| Just peep the bump and thump, | |
| You ain't got no choice | |
| So throw your hands up!" | |
| [Opio:] | |
| You're stuck, | |
| Crucified you'll lose don't try your luck, | |
| I'll cut 'em up | |
| Run through and ruin mc's they can suck my dick | |
| The Hieroglyphic Kingdom bring em down to earth | |
| They're worthless worse since the beginning | |
| And I'm winning | |
| Offending mc's they can't accept it | |
| Inside he hide his fear of theory that shit was weary | |
| And I hear he dont be coming off the top | |
| He better drop and give me fifty | |
| Cause if he dont shape up I take whats mine | |
| And at your title, what you write I'll demolish | |
| Polish up your skills just forget all this | |
| Call it quits it's overwhelming | |
| You keep failing to impress | |
| You're sluggish, I'll put a fake mc to rest | |
| I got pages for the courageous amazes | |
| Fazes my opponent leave the microphone bic | |
| You're flow is basic, youll get erased quick | |
| Stick to fantasizing | |
| You're wack and deny the fact that I win | |
| Ease the pain, I still remain the king | |
| I sing a lullaby to nullify the lazy ass lame | |
| Famous mc | |
| Even a nameless mc gets unfriendly | |
| So we out to check em | |
| Direct from O. Lindsey | |
| [A-Plus:] | |
| Why you gotta to do the kind of shit that I hate? | |
| I find your shit to be fake, | |
| Your mind ain't fit to create | |
| Cease see you later, mack | |
| Accidents waitin to happen | |
| Trying to fade the Adam | |
| They bags is broke when they attack him | |
| Cause I play the mack, | |
| See that's an everyday thing | |
| You can peep these hoes jocking in whenever we hang | |
| I gets game from 'em, see hieroglyphics came from the | |
| East side of O. | |
| Getting jocked when we try to go | |
| To these funk missions | |
| With a grudge written overnight | |
| Rappers come wishin | |
| But Plus hold the mic and slap you with the bump shit | |
| Them hoes jock me the most, | |
| Wish I was there | |
| When them cowards jumped Donnie and Los | |
| We own all mics in the solar system | |
| You gets dropped when the Souls come reposessing props | |
| With the older wisdom | |
| And the beat it just drops and I hold the rhythm | |
| Souls of mischief is the coldest | |
| [Chorus] | |
| To all you crews thinkin we was weak as you | |
| Well would you listen to a doozy, | |
| You're lucky that we dissaprove and frown | |
| At that candy coated cartoon clown shit | |
| We don't allow it, (naw that would make us some hypocrites) | |
| You scared yourself into popping lip and jest | |
| Suckers saving face but catch it in the chest | |
| So just abate your haste | |
| To activate your _ | |
| Cause he eat the best rhymer | |
| Stop your crew up with jemima | |
| I got the tool just _ of the drama | |
| Yo but that's madness, my shit's the bump | |
| If I didn't have hits, I'd persist to pump | |
| My mind to capacity till the shit just dump out on the sidewalk | |
| And only then would I sqawk | |
| And babble nonsense | |
| Ripping this shit long as I'm conscious | |
| And even in your dreams you'll fiend and follow it | |
| No paths you better quit 'for y'all and get with the | |
| Vocabulary lunchmeats | |
| Suckers smoke pads | |
| Of something lack the gumption get smacked when we up in the house | |
| Niggas are fake | |
| They gettin baked trying to penetrate the inferno | |
| I surround the microphone wit | |
| Cause to the highest degrees mc's marvel over me | |
| I never reconsider getting rid of them | |
| They perishing embarassing as the air gets thin | |
| I stare em in the eyes before I wear them in | |
| Its no comparison to the immaculate | |
| You get ramshackled with the mic | |
| Lanced with the javelin for rattling off at the lip | |
| (Get off my dick) | |
| But you can think what'f I stigmatized if you tried | |
| It's circumstantial | |
| You niggas are unadvanced with the mic | |
| In avalanche you don't have a chance just dance to | |
| The beat I'm notorious for bics | |
| Niggas trying to come to grips but its | |
| Inevitable you'll never know | |
| Execution is your only resoultion | |
| So retrace your steps or face your death | |
| [Chorus] |
| zuo ci : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
| " Its the | |
| Ill Plusta Phesto D., | |
| O. Lindsey, | |
| T. Massey so whatchyou wanna be?? | |
| Us!! | |
| Just peep the bump and thump, | |
| You ain' t got no choice | |
| So throw your hands up!" | |
| Opio: | |
| You' re stuck, | |
| Crucified you' ll lose don' t try your luck, | |
| I' ll cut ' em up | |
| Run through and ruin mc' s they can suck my dick | |
| The Hieroglyphic Kingdom bring em down to earth | |
| They' re worthless worse since the beginning | |
| And I' m winning | |
| Offending mc' s they can' t accept it | |
| Inside he hide his fear of theory that shit was weary | |
| And I hear he dont be coming off the top | |
| He better drop and give me fifty | |
| Cause if he dont shape up I take whats mine | |
| And at your title, what you write I' ll demolish | |
| Polish up your skills just forget all this | |
| Call it quits it' s overwhelming | |
| You keep failing to impress | |
| You' re sluggish, I' ll put a fake mc to rest | |
| I got pages for the courageous amazes | |
| Fazes my opponent leave the microphone bic | |
| You' re flow is basic, youll get erased quick | |
| Stick to fantasizing | |
| You' re wack and deny the fact that I win | |
| Ease the pain, I still remain the king | |
| I sing a lullaby to nullify the lazy ass lame | |
| Famous mc | |
| Even a nameless mc gets unfriendly | |
| So we out to check em | |
| Direct from O. Lindsey | |
| APlus: | |
| Why you gotta to do the kind of shit that I hate? | |
| I find your shit to be fake, | |
| Your mind ain' t fit to create | |
| Cease see you later, mack | |
| Accidents waitin to happen | |
| Trying to fade the Adam | |
| They bags is broke when they attack him | |
| Cause I play the mack, | |
| See that' s an everyday thing | |
| You can peep these hoes jocking in whenever we hang | |
| I gets game from ' em, see hieroglyphics came from the | |
| East side of O. | |
| Getting jocked when we try to go | |
| To these funk missions | |
| With a grudge written overnight | |
| Rappers come wishin | |
| But Plus hold the mic and slap you with the bump shit | |
| Them hoes jock me the most, | |
| Wish I was there | |
| When them cowards jumped Donnie and Los | |
| We own all mics in the solar system | |
| You gets dropped when the Souls come reposessing props | |
| With the older wisdom | |
| And the beat it just drops and I hold the rhythm | |
| Souls of mischief is the coldest | |
| Chorus | |
| To all you crews thinkin we was weak as you | |
| Well would you listen to a doozy, | |
| You' re lucky that we dissaprove and frown | |
| At that candy coated cartoon clown shit | |
| We don' t allow it, naw that would make us some hypocrites | |
| You scared yourself into popping lip and jest | |
| Suckers saving face but catch it in the chest | |
| So just abate your haste | |
| To activate your _ | |
| Cause he eat the best rhymer | |
| Stop your crew up with jemima | |
| I got the tool just _ of the drama | |
| Yo but that' s madness, my shit' s the bump | |
| If I didn' t have hits, I' d persist to pump | |
| My mind to capacity till the shit just dump out on the sidewalk | |
| And only then would I sqawk | |
| And babble nonsense | |
| Ripping this shit long as I' m conscious | |
| And even in your dreams you' ll fiend and follow it | |
| No paths you better quit ' for y' all and get with the | |
| Vocabulary lunchmeats | |
| Suckers smoke pads | |
| Of something lack the gumption get smacked when we up in the house | |
| Niggas are fake | |
| They gettin baked trying to penetrate the inferno | |
| I surround the microphone wit | |
| Cause to the highest degrees mc' s marvel over me | |
| I never reconsider getting rid of them | |
| They perishing embarassing as the air gets thin | |
| I stare em in the eyes before I wear them in | |
| Its no comparison to the immaculate | |
| You get ramshackled with the mic | |
| Lanced with the javelin for rattling off at the lip | |
| Get off my dick | |
| But you can think what' f I stigmatized if you tried | |
| It' s circumstantial | |
| You niggas are unadvanced with the mic | |
| In avalanche you don' t have a chance just dance to | |
| The beat I' m notorious for bics | |
| Niggas trying to come to grips but its | |
| Inevitable you' ll never know | |
| Execution is your only resoultion | |
| So retrace your steps or face your death | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : Carter, Lindsey, Massey ... | |
| " Its the | |
| Ill Plusta Phesto D., | |
| O. Lindsey, | |
| T. Massey so whatchyou wanna be?? | |
| Us!! | |
| Just peep the bump and thump, | |
| You ain' t got no choice | |
| So throw your hands up!" | |
| Opio: | |
| You' re stuck, | |
| Crucified you' ll lose don' t try your luck, | |
| I' ll cut ' em up | |
| Run through and ruin mc' s they can suck my dick | |
| The Hieroglyphic Kingdom bring em down to earth | |
| They' re worthless worse since the beginning | |
| And I' m winning | |
| Offending mc' s they can' t accept it | |
| Inside he hide his fear of theory that shit was weary | |
| And I hear he dont be coming off the top | |
| He better drop and give me fifty | |
| Cause if he dont shape up I take whats mine | |
| And at your title, what you write I' ll demolish | |
| Polish up your skills just forget all this | |
| Call it quits it' s overwhelming | |
| You keep failing to impress | |
| You' re sluggish, I' ll put a fake mc to rest | |
| I got pages for the courageous amazes | |
| Fazes my opponent leave the microphone bic | |
| You' re flow is basic, youll get erased quick | |
| Stick to fantasizing | |
| You' re wack and deny the fact that I win | |
| Ease the pain, I still remain the king | |
| I sing a lullaby to nullify the lazy ass lame | |
| Famous mc | |
| Even a nameless mc gets unfriendly | |
| So we out to check em | |
| Direct from O. Lindsey | |
| APlus: | |
| Why you gotta to do the kind of shit that I hate? | |
| I find your shit to be fake, | |
| Your mind ain' t fit to create | |
| Cease see you later, mack | |
| Accidents waitin to happen | |
| Trying to fade the Adam | |
| They bags is broke when they attack him | |
| Cause I play the mack, | |
| See that' s an everyday thing | |
| You can peep these hoes jocking in whenever we hang | |
| I gets game from ' em, see hieroglyphics came from the | |
| East side of O. | |
| Getting jocked when we try to go | |
| To these funk missions | |
| With a grudge written overnight | |
| Rappers come wishin | |
| But Plus hold the mic and slap you with the bump shit | |
| Them hoes jock me the most, | |
| Wish I was there | |
| When them cowards jumped Donnie and Los | |
| We own all mics in the solar system | |
| You gets dropped when the Souls come reposessing props | |
| With the older wisdom | |
| And the beat it just drops and I hold the rhythm | |
| Souls of mischief is the coldest | |
| Chorus | |
| To all you crews thinkin we was weak as you | |
| Well would you listen to a doozy, | |
| You' re lucky that we dissaprove and frown | |
| At that candy coated cartoon clown shit | |
| We don' t allow it, naw that would make us some hypocrites | |
| You scared yourself into popping lip and jest | |
| Suckers saving face but catch it in the chest | |
| So just abate your haste | |
| To activate your _ | |
| Cause he eat the best rhymer | |
| Stop your crew up with jemima | |
| I got the tool just _ of the drama | |
| Yo but that' s madness, my shit' s the bump | |
| If I didn' t have hits, I' d persist to pump | |
| My mind to capacity till the shit just dump out on the sidewalk | |
| And only then would I sqawk | |
| And babble nonsense | |
| Ripping this shit long as I' m conscious | |
| And even in your dreams you' ll fiend and follow it | |
| No paths you better quit ' for y' all and get with the | |
| Vocabulary lunchmeats | |
| Suckers smoke pads | |
| Of something lack the gumption get smacked when we up in the house | |
| Niggas are fake | |
| They gettin baked trying to penetrate the inferno | |
| I surround the microphone wit | |
| Cause to the highest degrees mc' s marvel over me | |
| I never reconsider getting rid of them | |
| They perishing embarassing as the air gets thin | |
| I stare em in the eyes before I wear them in | |
| Its no comparison to the immaculate | |
| You get ramshackled with the mic | |
| Lanced with the javelin for rattling off at the lip | |
| Get off my dick | |
| But you can think what' f I stigmatized if you tried | |
| It' s circumstantial | |
| You niggas are unadvanced with the mic | |
| In avalanche you don' t have a chance just dance to | |
| The beat I' m notorious for bics | |
| Niggas trying to come to grips but its | |
| Inevitable you' ll never know | |
| Execution is your only resoultion | |
| So retrace your steps or face your death | |
| Chorus |
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