Manifique (Original Rules) Lyrics
| Song | Manifique (Original Rules) |
| Artist | Keith Murray |
| Album | Enigma |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Corouch, Jones, Murray ... | |
| Intro： | |
| If heads only knew! | |
| Verse 1： | |
| I make music of murder and mayhhem for all of them | |
| And murder ballads for sweet chariots | |
| My second return like a unstoppable bullet | |
| With wings my ears ring your name when you speak of me in vein | |
| Enter the center like a big bread winner | |
| So l.o.d. can eat that ass up for dinner | |
| I come with high potent deadly quotin' | |
| Avenue corrodin' street life ******t to get you open | |
| ******s pullin' stunts like jackie chan | |
| Not knowin' that they ******' with the demolition man | |
| I'm seen on screens and magazines | |
| Pump, pump (don't sleep) but peace to queens | |
| I hollar allah u akhbar my peeps hold me down | |
| In the roughest pair of timbs that ever touched the ground | |
| Huhh hows about a broken jaw | |
| It's keith murray and i'm comin' in with the raw metaphors | |
| Hook: | |
| When i'm alone in my room | |
| Sometimes i stare at the wall | |
| And in the back of my mind | |
| I hear my conscience call | |
| Keith murray | |
| Redman: | |
| Rock, rock on | |
| Keith murray: | |
| Original rules, original rules, original rules x2 | |
| Verse 2: | |
| Now heere we go again soundin' crazy but it's contagious | |
| The sickest entertainer puttin' your brain though strainers | |
| We smokes the choc', don't be afraid of the dark | |
| Mentals get hit brain cells spark | |
| Pappers swear they got the ****st jam on the shelf | |
| But they don't believe that ******t they own goddamn self | |
| Last year i was underrated but i stay dedicated | |
| I'm so dedicated i close my eyes i'm incarerated | |
| ******s was amazed at the ******t you was kickin' | |
| But all you did was adobo the chicken | |
| I"m taking over like the psychic network | |
| I got the drop on all you ******s out there claimin' that you do dirt | |
| But the truth hurts and it kills you to listen | |
| Like the sound of hollow point tip bullets whistlin' | |
| Every little breath you take | |
| Every little gesture you make | |
| Every little jack you fake | |
| I be the expert mic gladiator | |
| Pop ******t on records i'll cut your fingers off later | |
| Hook x2 | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Pump the new smash platium single the thug star spangled banner | |
| Illustratin' grammer in a hostile manner | |
| Texas chainsaw cuts hard to the core | |
| Makin' sure they don't try to battle me no more | |
| You seem to believe all you need is a rhyme and a dream | |
| To defeat the all time great microphone supreme | |
| But wake up cuz you playin' with the game of death | |
| I'll smoke your body ashes in a blunt and leave no evidence left | |
| Straight ashes ashes, dust to dust | |
| I got you in my clutch there's nothing further more to discuss | |
| And it's scary though when the eeriest voice on the radio | |
| Is in your hometown doin' the show | |
| With the technique that i'm usin' choosin' | |
| Abusin' | |
| Got more flow than d'angelo crusin' | |
| With poisonous venom oh my god i get in em' | |
| Turn 'em out give 'em something good to talk about | |
| Hook |
| zuo ci : Corouch, Jones, Murray ... | |
| Intro: | |
| If heads only knew! | |
| Verse 1: | |
| I make music of murder and mayhhem for all of them | |
| And murder ballads for sweet chariots | |
| My second return like a unstoppable bullet | |
| With wings my ears ring your name when you speak of me in vein | |
| Enter the center like a big bread winner | |
| So l. o. d. can eat that ass up for dinner | |
| I come with high potent deadly quotin' | |
| Avenue corrodin' street life t to get you open | |
| s pullin' stunts like jackie chan | |
| Not knowin' that they ' with the demolition man | |
| I' m seen on screens and magazines | |
| Pump, pump don' t sleep but peace to queens | |
| I hollar allah u akhbar my peeps hold me down | |
| In the roughest pair of timbs that ever touched the ground | |
| Huhh hows about a broken jaw | |
| It' s keith murray and i' m comin' in with the raw metaphors | |
| Hook: | |
| When i' m alone in my room | |
| Sometimes i stare at the wall | |
| And in the back of my mind | |
| I hear my conscience call | |
| Keith murray | |
| Redman: | |
| Rock, rock on | |
| Keith murray: | |
| Original rules, original rules, original rules x2 | |
| Verse 2: | |
| Now heere we go again soundin' crazy but it' s contagious | |
| The sickest entertainer puttin' your brain though strainers | |
| We smokes the choc', don' t be afraid of the dark | |
| Mentals get hit brain cells spark | |
| Pappers swear they got the st jam on the shelf | |
| But they don' t believe that t they own goddamn self | |
| Last year i was underrated but i stay dedicated | |
| I' m so dedicated i close my eyes i' m incarerated | |
| s was amazed at the t you was kickin' | |
| But all you did was adobo the chicken | |
| I" m taking over like the psychic network | |
| I got the drop on all you s out there claimin' that you do dirt | |
| But the truth hurts and it kills you to listen | |
| Like the sound of hollow point tip bullets whistlin' | |
| Every little breath you take | |
| Every little gesture you make | |
| Every little jack you fake | |
| I be the expert mic gladiator | |
| Pop t on records i' ll cut your fingers off later | |
| Hook x2 | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Pump the new smash platium single the thug star spangled banner | |
| Illustratin' grammer in a hostile manner | |
| Texas chainsaw cuts hard to the core | |
| Makin' sure they don' t try to battle me no more | |
| You seem to believe all you need is a rhyme and a dream | |
| To defeat the all time great microphone supreme | |
| But wake up cuz you playin' with the game of death | |
| I' ll smoke your body ashes in a blunt and leave no evidence left | |
| Straight ashes ashes, dust to dust | |
| I got you in my clutch there' s nothing further more to discuss | |
| And it' s scary though when the eeriest voice on the radio | |
| Is in your hometown doin' the show | |
| With the technique that i' m usin' choosin' | |
| Abusin' | |
| Got more flow than d' angelo crusin' | |
| With poisonous venom oh my god i get in em' | |
| Turn ' em out give ' em something good to talk about | |
| Hook |
| zuò cí : Corouch, Jones, Murray ... | |
| Intro: | |
| If heads only knew! | |
| Verse 1: | |
| I make music of murder and mayhhem for all of them | |
| And murder ballads for sweet chariots | |
| My second return like a unstoppable bullet | |
| With wings my ears ring your name when you speak of me in vein | |
| Enter the center like a big bread winner | |
| So l. o. d. can eat that ass up for dinner | |
| I come with high potent deadly quotin' | |
| Avenue corrodin' street life t to get you open | |
| s pullin' stunts like jackie chan | |
| Not knowin' that they ' with the demolition man | |
| I' m seen on screens and magazines | |
| Pump, pump don' t sleep but peace to queens | |
| I hollar allah u akhbar my peeps hold me down | |
| In the roughest pair of timbs that ever touched the ground | |
| Huhh hows about a broken jaw | |
| It' s keith murray and i' m comin' in with the raw metaphors | |
| Hook: | |
| When i' m alone in my room | |
| Sometimes i stare at the wall | |
| And in the back of my mind | |
| I hear my conscience call | |
| Keith murray | |
| Redman: | |
| Rock, rock on | |
| Keith murray: | |
| Original rules, original rules, original rules x2 | |
| Verse 2: | |
| Now heere we go again soundin' crazy but it' s contagious | |
| The sickest entertainer puttin' your brain though strainers | |
| We smokes the choc', don' t be afraid of the dark | |
| Mentals get hit brain cells spark | |
| Pappers swear they got the st jam on the shelf | |
| But they don' t believe that t they own goddamn self | |
| Last year i was underrated but i stay dedicated | |
| I' m so dedicated i close my eyes i' m incarerated | |
| s was amazed at the t you was kickin' | |
| But all you did was adobo the chicken | |
| I" m taking over like the psychic network | |
| I got the drop on all you s out there claimin' that you do dirt | |
| But the truth hurts and it kills you to listen | |
| Like the sound of hollow point tip bullets whistlin' | |
| Every little breath you take | |
| Every little gesture you make | |
| Every little jack you fake | |
| I be the expert mic gladiator | |
| Pop t on records i' ll cut your fingers off later | |
| Hook x2 | |
| Verse 3: | |
| Pump the new smash platium single the thug star spangled banner | |
| Illustratin' grammer in a hostile manner | |
| Texas chainsaw cuts hard to the core | |
| Makin' sure they don' t try to battle me no more | |
| You seem to believe all you need is a rhyme and a dream | |
| To defeat the all time great microphone supreme | |
| But wake up cuz you playin' with the game of death | |
| I' ll smoke your body ashes in a blunt and leave no evidence left | |
| Straight ashes ashes, dust to dust | |
| I got you in my clutch there' s nothing further more to discuss | |
| And it' s scary though when the eeriest voice on the radio | |
| Is in your hometown doin' the show | |
| With the technique that i' m usin' choosin' | |
| Abusin' | |
| Got more flow than d' angelo crusin' | |
| With poisonous venom oh my god i get in em' | |
| Turn ' em out give ' em something good to talk about | |
| Hook |
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