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mr. voodoo - 45 kickin it live كلمات الأغنية

mr. voodoo – “45 kickin it live”
[emcee(s): mr. voodoo]
[producer(s): charlemagne]
[additional vocals/hook: ka]

[intro: mr. voodoo]
yeah, mr. voodoo with my man ka, about to load this gun. so check it out. check it out. check it out. check it out

[verse 1: mr. voodoo]
kapow! another emcee bust like he was pimple pus
i’ll burn down your backyard like i was uncle gus
black, i don’t know how to act
i’ll murder you with the yakety yak
i attack, coming out the crevices and cracks. if it
wasn’t for their tracks, a lot of emcees would be wack. i got this
sewn up. those that roll up get rolled a biker blunt
then i huff and puff and blow the house up
my englishness got teflon tips, but i hate the waist
clips, so i’ma smack the taste out your lips
the skins be screaming, “yumping yiminy,” when me
[?] it’s agu that slides down your chimney
the cool jerk originates like kool herc and the herculoids
[?]. i’m slaying wack humanoids
da da da da! i’ll kick the
[?] and bet you that the crowd will applaud still
i’ll make a watt like muslims make salat. the nasty master slot
quick to pop a shot. wack emcees get herbed a lot
the eighth wonder cooler than the tundra. i’ll make bodies
jolt ‘cause i throw a flow like a lightning bolt, but not
like zeus. i’m more like, “jesús, listen to the
drums puh-puh!” and i arumpapum-
-pum. i’ll cause more grief for fams than the son of sam
and i don’t give a black godd-mn!

[hook: mr. voodoo and ka] (x2)
my 45’s kicking it live, and that’s no jive
my 45’s kicking it live, and that’s no jive
my 45’s kicking it live, and that’s no jive
puh-puh! take a dive if you want to stay alive

[verse 2: mr. voodoo]
i make n-ggas jump
around with my toolie. i’m well-armed and crazy like
sam. my firearms do bodily harm. pedes-
-trians ride mine like an equestrian, and i get biz on any
topic. your sk!lls are microscopic. the hyperbolic
syllabic [?] mystic, artistic, hard like granite
like bam, i made the “planet rock.” i slam, dammit
the slightly muscular hustler, rupturer, restruc-
-turer always blessing you with rhymes that’s combustible
i kick the [?] if you’re wack
my diction folds your vision ‘til all you see is black. all-
-natural—no additives or preservatives. if
your rhymes ain’t superlative, then you don’t deserve to live
the dastardly, b-st-rdly. girls lose their chast-ty
‘cause, quick-fast, they be giving up that -ss to me
the fly talker makes you feel the force like skywalker
ancient african secret how i freak it
this style is the fingertip while your style is primitive
i’ll smoke you like [?]. i’m rough around
the edges. the don with the wand that freaks the leprechaun
i r-r-r-r-r-r-r-e-a like a decepticon
to reshape your frame like it was clay ‘cause i don’t play. do fifty
bullets up your -ss make your day? ‘cause, by the way:

[verse 3: mr. voodoo]
run, run, run. here i come, diddy dum. i keep my
gat concealed ‘cause i don’t have a permit for the gun
i’m looking for the punk that think that he can funk around
so i can empty rounds in your batty boy sound
n-ggas pack the gat and then scram, can’t
do me a d-mn ‘cause i know who i am
fantastic, gigantic, dogmatic. things get drastic
when i let off the boombastic at the static
a tisket, a tasket. when the gat cl!cks, rats get
put in their casket with their brains all splattered
‘cause i plug slugs in thugs and unclogs the glock
and what i rock got you locked to my jock
yo (what?!?), if only you knew what i
know. when mr. voodoo come to release, i
flow. it go puh-puh-puh all over the track. i got
coocoo cats for that p–poo crack
when i pack steel, caps peel. i got 1-8-7
sk!lls, so, ‘til a beat k!lled for real
the brooklyn gunner. when i bust shots, watch
your bumboclaat crew decrease in number. whoever
meddles, i got the mettle to settle the score, and i’ma
give your stupid -ss, i’ma give your stupid -ss, i’ma
give your stupid -ss what you’re asking for, what
you’re asking for, what you’re asking for
two to the temple quite simple. i’m quite
nimble. i’m going to give your forehead a dimple ‘cause:

- mr voodoo

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