Scribble on a Clean Surface Lyrics
| Song | Scribble on a Clean Surface |
| Artist | Aceyalone |
| Album | Hip Hop and the World We Live In |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Aceyalone | |
| I had forgotten the incredible butter softness of his long fingers. | |
| How they felt on my back when he slow-dragged with me,at a fateful " | |
| Blue Lights in the | |
| Basement" party. | |
| The dim lights making his honey-colored eyes barely visible as he, | |
| FLASHED A | |
| PENLIGHT I | |
| N MY EYES!" | |
| Look directly into the light this time."[Aceyalone] | |
| I say look into the light | |
| See what you look like | |
| I scribble on a clean surface, the earthless and worthless {*echoes*[Chorus] | |
| It's life, at the tunnel of the point of purchase {*echoes* | |
| Aiyyo freedom got a microphone, | |
| AND a AK {*echoes* | |
| Make way, and prepare for the melee {*echoes*[Aceyalone] | |
| The method of my madness could | |
| NEVER be known | |
| The microphone magic of | |
| AceyaloneDon't, try to set home or off of the dome | |
| Because wigs are known to be | |
| SPLITAnd a, fan is known to be hit with shit | |
| Rubber band flows that snap back in place | |
| Rap in they face, get this motherfucker outta here | |
| He talks way way way | |
| WAY too much | |
| Spit for the victory, 'til they sick of me | |
| I never wallow in the bickery or trickery | |
| There's no con- | |
| FUSION, just the | |
| FUSIONNo il- | |
| LUSION, cause | |
| God rule them | |
| Held high, nailed in the sky | |
| The artistic eye leaves you mystified | |
| You're once denied, soon openly obliged[Chorus][Aceyalone] | |
| They say, "rock you don't stop" but what you talkin bout | |
| Well let me guess, you come fi test | |
| But test not he who knows best, put nonsense to rest | |
| Preachin on a soapbox, dope on the block | |
| Choke on your tongue, smoke from the gun | |
| Broke in the middle, | |
| I hope you're havin fun | |
| HIGH post, high dose, high strung | |
| Wind through the lungs, spirit of the young | |
| Salt on the slug, caught with the plug | |
| Fought with the drugs, taught by the thugs | |
| Eye of a tiger, head of a lion | |
| Walkin through the interior of | |
| SiberiaChip away at the rock, or a dynamite block | |
| Right where they had to stop, we continue | |
| Think the worst, ink into the verse | |
| Sink into the earth, die by the end of the rhyme | |
| What a rush, too much to discuss | |
| I close it up by sayin this[Chorus] |
| zuo ci : Aceyalone | |
| I had forgotten the incredible butter softness of his long fingers. | |
| How they felt on my back when he slowdragged with me, at a fateful " | |
| Blue Lights in the | |
| Basement" party. | |
| The dim lights making his honeycolored eyes barely visible as he, | |
| FLASHED A | |
| PENLIGHT I | |
| N MY EYES!" | |
| Look directly into the light this time." Aceyalone | |
| I say look into the light | |
| See what you look like | |
| I scribble on a clean surface, the earthless and worthless echoes Chorus | |
| It' s life, at the tunnel of the point of purchase echoes | |
| Aiyyo freedom got a microphone, | |
| AND a AK echoes | |
| Make way, and prepare for the melee echoes Aceyalone | |
| The method of my madness could | |
| NEVER be known | |
| The microphone magic of | |
| AceyaloneDon' t, try to set home or off of the dome | |
| Because wigs are known to be | |
| SPLITAnd a, fan is known to be hit with shit | |
| Rubber band flows that snap back in place | |
| Rap in they face, get this motherfucker outta here | |
| He talks way way way | |
| WAY too much | |
| Spit for the victory, ' til they sick of me | |
| I never wallow in the bickery or trickery | |
| There' s no con | |
| FUSION, just the | |
| FUSIONNo il | |
| LUSION, cause | |
| God rule them | |
| Held high, nailed in the sky | |
| The artistic eye leaves you mystified | |
| You' re once denied, soon openly obliged Chorus Aceyalone | |
| They say, " rock you don' t stop" but what you talkin bout | |
| Well let me guess, you come fi test | |
| But test not he who knows best, put nonsense to rest | |
| Preachin on a soapbox, dope on the block | |
| Choke on your tongue, smoke from the gun | |
| Broke in the middle, | |
| I hope you' re havin fun | |
| HIGH post, high dose, high strung | |
| Wind through the lungs, spirit of the young | |
| Salt on the slug, caught with the plug | |
| Fought with the drugs, taught by the thugs | |
| Eye of a tiger, head of a lion | |
| Walkin through the interior of | |
| SiberiaChip away at the rock, or a dynamite block | |
| Right where they had to stop, we continue | |
| Think the worst, ink into the verse | |
| Sink into the earth, die by the end of the rhyme | |
| What a rush, too much to discuss | |
| I close it up by sayin this Chorus |
| zuò cí : Aceyalone | |
| I had forgotten the incredible butter softness of his long fingers. | |
| How they felt on my back when he slowdragged with me, at a fateful " | |
| Blue Lights in the | |
| Basement" party. | |
| The dim lights making his honeycolored eyes barely visible as he, | |
| FLASHED A | |
| PENLIGHT I | |
| N MY EYES!" | |
| Look directly into the light this time." Aceyalone | |
| I say look into the light | |
| See what you look like | |
| I scribble on a clean surface, the earthless and worthless echoes Chorus | |
| It' s life, at the tunnel of the point of purchase echoes | |
| Aiyyo freedom got a microphone, | |
| AND a AK echoes | |
| Make way, and prepare for the melee echoes Aceyalone | |
| The method of my madness could | |
| NEVER be known | |
| The microphone magic of | |
| AceyaloneDon' t, try to set home or off of the dome | |
| Because wigs are known to be | |
| SPLITAnd a, fan is known to be hit with shit | |
| Rubber band flows that snap back in place | |
| Rap in they face, get this motherfucker outta here | |
| He talks way way way | |
| WAY too much | |
| Spit for the victory, ' til they sick of me | |
| I never wallow in the bickery or trickery | |
| There' s no con | |
| FUSION, just the | |
| FUSIONNo il | |
| LUSION, cause | |
| God rule them | |
| Held high, nailed in the sky | |
| The artistic eye leaves you mystified | |
| You' re once denied, soon openly obliged Chorus Aceyalone | |
| They say, " rock you don' t stop" but what you talkin bout | |
| Well let me guess, you come fi test | |
| But test not he who knows best, put nonsense to rest | |
| Preachin on a soapbox, dope on the block | |
| Choke on your tongue, smoke from the gun | |
| Broke in the middle, | |
| I hope you' re havin fun | |
| HIGH post, high dose, high strung | |
| Wind through the lungs, spirit of the young | |
| Salt on the slug, caught with the plug | |
| Fought with the drugs, taught by the thugs | |
| Eye of a tiger, head of a lion | |
| Walkin through the interior of | |
| SiberiaChip away at the rock, or a dynamite block | |
| Right where they had to stop, we continue | |
| Think the worst, ink into the verse | |
| Sink into the earth, die by the end of the rhyme | |
| What a rush, too much to discuss | |
| I close it up by sayin this Chorus |
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