lirik lagu back from the wog – mood cru
[banter]
[hook]
stop what you wanna do, huh
stop what you wanna do
stop what you tryna prove, huh
we gotta hold on you [x2]
[handamonium]
dipped down, but the doppler blew
dripped mist in the stew
mana caught the panic, now my chronicle’s through
shlickin’ to the ends like my moniker do, i see
plorce mort, loose topia’s manses
nevermind recurrence, i’m inclined to prances
mosey to the ends, last man withstanding
i’ll be wickin’ back wig, rapture in action
or he’s toolin’. jacked on jack, kind crimes ensuing
pocket bocka promise, screws get loosa
pop that, nightcap, mishap, cruiser
get dunked by the b-lls, little timmys queuing up to see ya fall
i know ya snortin’ that wog. surf’s up, clucks, see me ride the bog
[moud-e & kaydus]
tucked, bedtime rhymin with a rem, rend a tendon like hens
bend life boils uncle ben’s ilk, ether will wilt how ya feel wanna k!ll
nil, not everything shall spill, willpower towers till the jenga ain’t still
cower at the forces that will. prowlin’ unruly in the holy landfills
[handamonium & moud-e]
soliloquies or showdowns, show’s cancelled cause a viewer didn’t show out
subs snubbin cuz they tuned in to toon out, zow, buggin’ bunnies with the shouts
loud, we got it for the low route, duckin fuds ‘fore the federalies reap crowns
shorn sheeple peepin’ fleecle through the peephole, ha, pop bo in the tailpipe
lop all the windpipes, bip bop if it feels right, lime lies ripe to sub for the insight
chatterbox voxin’, haulin toxin for an invite
not wasting the gift, right?
[hook]
stop what you wanna do, huh
stop what you wanna do
stop what you tryna prove, huh
we gotta hold on you [x2]
[moud-e]
got a hold on me? vis a vis outdated mentalities
royalties reel rampant, realities dampen our causality, our salary
likes on a page, minimum wage says 20 views till ya made, loom over new slaves
noose brings a parade, mayday on the mic, give them that cobain, sow that delight
seedy legacies in the form of a vice, cities razed and claimed all for becky’s pike
little trade tip, take your tip to a f-cking knife, right?
[kaydus]
scales shield us from the flames, as a way to weigh the cipher/
wait, you trading im’s for figures, got us livin’ like caricatures/
self-destructive mixture, makin’ carousels of scripture
an earnest lip service worth less than the bird who chirped it
learned courtesy ain’t sh-t but a means to be a bit more at ease
they abhor disease, ain’t pourin’ lean rather court iblis, like heh
send the poor out to war as they worship a beast
that’s the wh-r- at our core with a smoke machine
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