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lirik lagu sickofitall – tatum ultimatum

[chorus] (x4)
as above, so below
do it really make a difference?
it’s all the same
whichever route you taking
you’ll still be dead
sick and tired of all these rappers
rapping back*a*wards
you know i only spit truth
play a beat, i’ll cough it up

[verse 1] (24 bars)
twizted tatum
spinning n flipping n turning the tables
rocky road, yeah i been down that
no i ain’t going back
back to the past
when i was a young lad
drug in sack, talking bad
looking sh*ggy, jinkies, where my scooby snacks!?
i swear i just had ’em a second ago
always forgetting the distance between
my soul and myself, devil, angels
watch me disappear
from a rapper that be upset
chris angel, the abracadabra vet
i could believe thy father
i could pray for no havoc
shoving belief down your throat like some baggage
i’d rather not bag it
i’d rather not output
i’d rather input me some rhymes like a cheat code
i ain’t finna spam it
going ham, like a twisted festival hammock
i could spell simp, like a nice boy
i could be pimp, like a f*** boy
but i ain’t finna do both for a woman that ain’t want me none
it’s all in ya head
it’s all in ya breath
quit smoking, quit joking
quit gloatin’ just commit
if you really wanna make a difference in this world
quit all the talk, on eventually doing it
procrastinating suckas
egos bigger than a
state, building with no empire
and they still, keep on cryin’
“lord, i wanna be a squire!”
i wanna be higher
i wanna be the best
with no tread on me, like a tire
wearing a vest, and that drip attire!
[verse 2] (24 bars)
yuh, yuh
yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh*
kickin’ ’em buckets
of lies and bs, untrue ruckus
i’m spitting, crushing
the beats i make like blown out drum*heads
you wanna talk about the bad stuff that you be doing unproven
you wouldn’t ever wanna do it
cuz you too afraid of truthin’ (yeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhh!)
on the fact of the matter
matter of fact i’m making habits
on the talent that i have
i produce mad, spittin’ lyrical magazines
call me mad magazine, i got issues
but i ain’t crying, no need of a tissue
sneezing clean, 918 repping boy
tulsa city boys, tulsa my place
ain’t a coy, hit the casino
chips ahoy, on a sat*rday
just before sunday
before i go to worship
a holy unholy murderous crime (crime, crime)
of a worshiped, miraculous boy (boy*boy*boy)
as above so below, what come around
go around, you know (know*know)
i pray to the father ask him for a hand
he give me some
it sometimes ain’t enough
so i get upset like a chump
learn the hard way on a lesson
then i feel like i am done
what’s the point of going on
when i feel like i ain’t worth none
hit the hay, wake up the next day
resurrection make me feel enough
then i feel all better, a*okay, uhh

- tatum ultimatum

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