Straight Flow (Instrumental) Lyrics
| Song | Straight Flow (Instrumental) |
| Artist | The Legion |
| Album | The Lost Tapes |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : The Legion | |
| (Verse: Mr Lawnge) | |
| It's ridiculous the *******t I be sayn | |
| Call me the Legion, *******s ain't playn | |
| Beatin' on my chest, but I keep calm | |
| Word is bomb, pokes that make the ding dong | |
| Medicine in the music, the menace of a monster | |
| Once a couple stomp a gangsta from the Bronx | |
| I feel no pain, I ruff rugged insane | |
| I run the train express down the lane | |
| Get out my way, punk, *******s start the jet | |
| Bowl from the porch, four fingers of death | |
| No one can do me, pictures crazy, chew me | |
| You have my card(?) but you just can't clue me | |
| I chomp tracks like Scooby snacks | |
| Pull my jinx out the hat, like Minnesota facts | |
| Eight ballin' the side, park it up the ? next to ? dice | |
| Man, ready to thumper | |
| (Verse: Molecules) | |
| Vicious, victorious, verbs are hard on my venom | |
| Heavenly valid as I'm rocking in my ******* dentals | |
| Hawged connection, too ill creation | |
| The mind - Jason, that's deadly like Vacation | |
| I ain't the one to pop the clock ova a son of a gun | |
| Corpe inside yo ass like a dum-dum | |
| Son, I hew with the verbal aggression | |
| Black is brown, with the king, like it's ? in ? | |
| A lunatic out being psychopath | |
| Victors get it on, cause that ass is gettin' kicked | |
| Gray cells pop while I shot and I take a puff | |
| The *******s doubt us, say damn, they can't ? | |
| So himble himble, have you heard? | |
| Chucky smashes up next to Fleck (that's me!) | |
| (Verse: Cee-Low) | |
| (Word) Double faced MC's tryna step on me | |
| They must be crazy, B | |
| Get a token poll, I suggest they start talkin' | |
| When I get open, somebody's *******t gettin' open | |
| Don't play me, play hop-scotch | |
| *******, I'm top notch, holdin' the mike in my crotch | |
| I got convertible rhymes comin' down | |
| Smother the ground, all around you they surround | |
| Forming that ? with pots and pans | |
| Me and my man, sayn things real *******s understand | |
| With no vessel, win, velitious get sent to a session | |
| Any pro'lems, surely I will let someone swing it | |
| Getting to a-flingin' it | |
| Whack MCs could get the ******* thing a little close to nose | |
| I ain't *******' with no hoes | |
| Or should I say sluts? Even the ones with big butts | |
| So nasty, naughty, never playn shawty | |
| Don't make me mad, I might get sortie | |
| Upset cause punk *******s act rude | |
| I got a big attitude, dropping joint(?) eva | |
| Look for a terror | |
| I'm calling it stereo on the cross-america | |
| The many I rock the East Coast | |
| Before I boast, I make sure I pack a toast | |
| (Outro: Dres) | |
| Aw, hahahaha, yeah | |
| That's the *******s | |
| Y'all 'em *******s |
| zuo qu : The Legion | |
| Verse: Mr Lawnge | |
| It' s ridiculous the t I be sayn | |
| Call me the Legion, s ain' t playn | |
| Beatin' on my chest, but I keep calm | |
| Word is bomb, pokes that make the ding dong | |
| Medicine in the music, the menace of a monster | |
| Once a couple stomp a gangsta from the Bronx | |
| I feel no pain, I ruff rugged insane | |
| I run the train express down the lane | |
| Get out my way, punk, s start the jet | |
| Bowl from the porch, four fingers of death | |
| No one can do me, pictures crazy, chew me | |
| You have my card? but you just can' t clue me | |
| I chomp tracks like Scooby snacks | |
| Pull my jinx out the hat, like Minnesota facts | |
| Eight ballin' the side, park it up the ? next to ? dice | |
| Man, ready to thumper | |
| Verse: Molecules | |
| Vicious, victorious, verbs are hard on my venom | |
| Heavenly valid as I' m rocking in my dentals | |
| Hawged connection, too ill creation | |
| The mind Jason, that' s deadly like Vacation | |
| I ain' t the one to pop the clock ova a son of a gun | |
| Corpe inside yo ass like a dumdum | |
| Son, I hew with the verbal aggression | |
| Black is brown, with the king, like it' s ? in ? | |
| A lunatic out being psychopath | |
| Victors get it on, cause that ass is gettin' kicked | |
| Gray cells pop while I shot and I take a puff | |
| The s doubt us, say damn, they can' t ? | |
| So himble himble, have you heard? | |
| Chucky smashes up next to Fleck that' s me! | |
| Verse: CeeLow | |
| Word Double faced MC' s tryna step on me | |
| They must be crazy, B | |
| Get a token poll, I suggest they start talkin' | |
| When I get open, somebody' s t gettin' open | |
| Don' t play me, play hopscotch | |
| , I' m top notch, holdin' the mike in my crotch | |
| I got convertible rhymes comin' down | |
| Smother the ground, all around you they surround | |
| Forming that ? with pots and pans | |
| Me and my man, sayn things real s understand | |
| With no vessel, win, velitious get sent to a session | |
| Any pro' lems, surely I will let someone swing it | |
| Getting to aflingin' it | |
| Whack MCs could get the thing a little close to nose | |
| I ain' t ' with no hoes | |
| Or should I say sluts? Even the ones with big butts | |
| So nasty, naughty, never playn shawty | |
| Don' t make me mad, I might get sortie | |
| Upset cause punk s act rude | |
| I got a big attitude, dropping joint? eva | |
| Look for a terror | |
| I' m calling it stereo on the crossamerica | |
| The many I rock the East Coast | |
| Before I boast, I make sure I pack a toast | |
| Outro: Dres | |
| Aw, hahahaha, yeah | |
| That' s the s | |
| Y' all ' em s |
| zuò qǔ : The Legion | |
| Verse: Mr Lawnge | |
| It' s ridiculous the t I be sayn | |
| Call me the Legion, s ain' t playn | |
| Beatin' on my chest, but I keep calm | |
| Word is bomb, pokes that make the ding dong | |
| Medicine in the music, the menace of a monster | |
| Once a couple stomp a gangsta from the Bronx | |
| I feel no pain, I ruff rugged insane | |
| I run the train express down the lane | |
| Get out my way, punk, s start the jet | |
| Bowl from the porch, four fingers of death | |
| No one can do me, pictures crazy, chew me | |
| You have my card? but you just can' t clue me | |
| I chomp tracks like Scooby snacks | |
| Pull my jinx out the hat, like Minnesota facts | |
| Eight ballin' the side, park it up the ? next to ? dice | |
| Man, ready to thumper | |
| Verse: Molecules | |
| Vicious, victorious, verbs are hard on my venom | |
| Heavenly valid as I' m rocking in my dentals | |
| Hawged connection, too ill creation | |
| The mind Jason, that' s deadly like Vacation | |
| I ain' t the one to pop the clock ova a son of a gun | |
| Corpe inside yo ass like a dumdum | |
| Son, I hew with the verbal aggression | |
| Black is brown, with the king, like it' s ? in ? | |
| A lunatic out being psychopath | |
| Victors get it on, cause that ass is gettin' kicked | |
| Gray cells pop while I shot and I take a puff | |
| The s doubt us, say damn, they can' t ? | |
| So himble himble, have you heard? | |
| Chucky smashes up next to Fleck that' s me! | |
| Verse: CeeLow | |
| Word Double faced MC' s tryna step on me | |
| They must be crazy, B | |
| Get a token poll, I suggest they start talkin' | |
| When I get open, somebody' s t gettin' open | |
| Don' t play me, play hopscotch | |
| , I' m top notch, holdin' the mike in my crotch | |
| I got convertible rhymes comin' down | |
| Smother the ground, all around you they surround | |
| Forming that ? with pots and pans | |
| Me and my man, sayn things real s understand | |
| With no vessel, win, velitious get sent to a session | |
| Any pro' lems, surely I will let someone swing it | |
| Getting to aflingin' it | |
| Whack MCs could get the thing a little close to nose | |
| I ain' t ' with no hoes | |
| Or should I say sluts? Even the ones with big butts | |
| So nasty, naughty, never playn shawty | |
| Don' t make me mad, I might get sortie | |
| Upset cause punk s act rude | |
| I got a big attitude, dropping joint? eva | |
| Look for a terror | |
| I' m calling it stereo on the crossamerica | |
| The many I rock the East Coast | |
| Before I boast, I make sure I pack a toast | |
| Outro: Dres | |
| Aw, hahahaha, yeah | |
| That' s the s | |
| Y' all ' em s |
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