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lirik lagu f64 – calibar

the booth wasn’t new to him
watch what i do to him
holy water flows like i swam from jerusalem
the bishop had the juice for him
i came and diluted them
mixed the recipe and broke bread like the eucharist
they say i should be civilised
but out there, they are heavily criticised
you should be grateful i’m real and i spit my life
so f-ck if i flip punk or if i flip white
and i’m still gripping knives
but without sin and lowblows, i got that ridd-ck bowe flow
that’s benefit cold flows
you ain’t spittin’ snow globes, no biker
speed but don’t stall it
cause i’m the type to ride ’till i die
i won’t walk it
the mad scientist
i’m back in the lab
my formula’s the pen and i create the method with pads
now add h2o flows plus the beat
you don’t know subtractions
then that will cause a chemical reaction
action, get the picture
closed caption
attraction
smooth criminal, mike jackson
i’m that fly, think i stepped out of the sp-ceship
extraterrestrial with pluto on the bracelet
my third eye’s open, no need for binoculars
bullseye, when i aim the flame from kilometres
i’ll blow your oesophagus
me, my tre pound ain’t monogamous
i lay down the biggest hippopotamus
i’m a rebel so they call me benny blanco
from carlito’s way, i took the left to toronto
oh, i bang hammers like a bongo
accelerate and didn’t stop like oj’s bronco
dress code’s debonair
my swag’s up fly boy, no feathers here
but i still shot the o over the hemisphere
straight to macy’s, cop ralph lauren tennis gear
no floetry, fam i spit poetry
langston hughes when i rap but i flow on beats
over the years, they try slander my name
but i carry tottenham on my back
i can harbour the screen
i’m lyrically athletic, i ain’t running outta breath
when i run tracks, it’s just a workout for my legs
rocky to training, me and balboa on the steps
spit heavyweight bars like i’m working on my chest
i got the best drugs, 9 out of 10 dubs
that’s why they come for 2 white 1 brown, n dubz
got ’em screaming nanana when they faze you
all follow along when i cook it like baker
i buy the barra’, champs no lager
i’m done with the red, i’m on my black stripe prada
from heaven, i will raise h-ll
the chain keeps the lord in me
in these true religions, even christians adore me
i’m low on sugar darg, the roads say i’m diabetic
i got the insulin for sweet boys that disrespect it
the definition of bittersweet symphony
the type to turn sour if it’s sweet like a symphony

- calibar

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