letra de suntoucher - groove armada
’bout to drop this right now for you, the original suntoucher
lettin’ you know, what’s up. goes like this…
we’re about to put it on you right here right now, let you know, how it goes down
and this is, this is what it is…
it’s the urban organic mic mechanic
super-human mc powers help me fly around the planet
touch the microphone device, whole countries get frantic
saving damsels in distress so young girls don’t panic
putting mcs under pressure till they crack like ceramic
always thought they could flow but sink like the t-tanic
rhymes rip through your skull like icebergs through the hull
survive the impact and arctic cold freezes your soul
create a new style, then break the mold
compositions are controlled and liable to explode
like land mines, my crew blows through like wind chimes
make it hot like fire, 200 proof like moonshine
risky, playing yourself is risky
and the flows mad jazzy like dizzy gillespie
and the sound be harmonious and deadly
like a harpy, call me the big one like wayne gretzky
no man can test me, so why try?
focus like a samurai, stronger than a maitai
or a tsunama, i mean tsunami
i rock it from mtv, to the bbc
radioactive waves short out your tv
aliens check it for me in the next galaxy
put it in a time capsule till the next century
in a black out use it for electricity
danger, high voltage, don’t feed me their daily dosage
i break it down mathematically, 99.9 is the percentage
like closing fine wine the rhymes are vintage
and the universal will gives me strength like spinach
with dinage, i eat it like a tofu sandwich
with cabbage, i ask your girl, she knows that i’m not the average
n-gg-, who claims to pull the trigga’
reality’s the root of the rhymes that i configure
phony… baloney, swear like don corleone
but when sh-t hit the fan they start crying like pretty tony
tender like roni… but wish to be bad like bobby
been there, done that, smashed up, rockin’ rhymes is my hobby
you’re probably like, what’s he on
cause i rock it from the start, till the beat is gone
not in the mafia but i’m the microphone don
and the words that i shoot out my mouth are teflon
jeru never touch ya, microphone wrecka’
meet out in the stretcha’, step up in my center
try to match wits but the mental will crush ya
jeru the damaja, the suntoucher.
peace…
yeah, this is it right here, how we’ flowin down…
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