Clear the Decks Songtext
von Chubb Rock
Clear the Decks Songtext
Like the blessing of kids, non-Buddhist
The breeze and the vocal miss scared then gets married to freeze
Execs flex, the scripting of bounced checks
And the fake cribs, and the promise of sex
Laid, from costumes containing shell Adidas
And the runners and the cruisers and the rack and pinion Beamers
And the phone and the cellular, waves they roam
Lobotomizing the already swell dome
I, arrive in the nick of time
Drowning in death with the bullshit rhyme
Lyrics, after ten to kill, boom critics
With the chrome and my man Kurt Cone with the rivets
And the smite, if you like to know mic holders
And the Flatbush Swooshies, the ruffneck soldiers
Told me, come from the sticks, please flex
So hi-8 this done, clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
The core lies within our stars within ourselves, Shakespeare
I thought some other kid wrote that last year
The street gave birth to all those lyrical perks
The dishing of guns stuns the ripping of skirts
In their rhyme, silly millimeter with nines
Same beat, same bass and the usual chimes
These beats tremble, disassemble with the Hudson
And the sleepers puff spliffs, eyes redder than the Russians
I, infiltrate with these beats drool makes
In the nickel-plated cellar with those tons of crates
Strictly, in fact, unequivocal thought
Brought up on a thirst not drenched with no quartz
You live in a bottle, the execs push the throttle while
The grassroots look to you like a model
I, tend to become, overvexed
On the set, catch wreck, and clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
The usual chumrock shit was strictly smiley
The Knicks is my number one pick, fuck Riley
I′m a run a New York undercover kind of brother
The flip side of the mental is a lover
While the verbs squirm into a wall of nouns
Profound bits, of English, profound
My, cerebrum tends to gas then leave em
In an unusual scene, cuts then you see them
Done vibes, bones and the chrome metronome
And the Lexus dreams to keep up with the Jones
Magazines diss, then start admiring
Why? Cause New York Times ain't hiring
Perpetual edits, then credits
And featured full page lies, with the merits
And the bogus hit, sophomoric plex
And energized biceps, clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
The breeze and the vocal miss scared then gets married to freeze
Execs flex, the scripting of bounced checks
And the fake cribs, and the promise of sex
Laid, from costumes containing shell Adidas
And the runners and the cruisers and the rack and pinion Beamers
And the phone and the cellular, waves they roam
Lobotomizing the already swell dome
I, arrive in the nick of time
Drowning in death with the bullshit rhyme
Lyrics, after ten to kill, boom critics
With the chrome and my man Kurt Cone with the rivets
And the smite, if you like to know mic holders
And the Flatbush Swooshies, the ruffneck soldiers
Told me, come from the sticks, please flex
So hi-8 this done, clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
The core lies within our stars within ourselves, Shakespeare
I thought some other kid wrote that last year
The street gave birth to all those lyrical perks
The dishing of guns stuns the ripping of skirts
In their rhyme, silly millimeter with nines
Same beat, same bass and the usual chimes
These beats tremble, disassemble with the Hudson
And the sleepers puff spliffs, eyes redder than the Russians
I, infiltrate with these beats drool makes
In the nickel-plated cellar with those tons of crates
Strictly, in fact, unequivocal thought
Brought up on a thirst not drenched with no quartz
You live in a bottle, the execs push the throttle while
The grassroots look to you like a model
I, tend to become, overvexed
On the set, catch wreck, and clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
The usual chumrock shit was strictly smiley
The Knicks is my number one pick, fuck Riley
I′m a run a New York undercover kind of brother
The flip side of the mental is a lover
While the verbs squirm into a wall of nouns
Profound bits, of English, profound
My, cerebrum tends to gas then leave em
In an unusual scene, cuts then you see them
Done vibes, bones and the chrome metronome
And the Lexus dreams to keep up with the Jones
Magazines diss, then start admiring
Why? Cause New York Times ain't hiring
Perpetual edits, then credits
And featured full page lies, with the merits
And the bogus hit, sophomoric plex
And energized biceps, clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC′s will run like a marmot)
Clear the decks
(Ha-ha, MC's will run like a marmot)
Writer(s): Osten Harvey, Craig Mack, Andrew Louis Smith, Richard Anthony Simpson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
