Songtext Crunch von Moka Only

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Lime green

2001

Crunch

I'm the durable mammal, Moka Only the complete abnormality
Fatality maker, don't you sleep
Why? It's detrimental that you set your mental clock right
So you can catch the prime example of those who rock right
The top tight, my mic's made of alabaster
Castin' shadows the size of Mount Shasta before I smash ya
I promise to be the bombest, I gotta say that,
You want to die? Well you can be accommodated
To be honest, you soft like hummus
To be on another plateau you gotta rap pro or become sawdust
I'll Husqvarna? that ass with no exception
Been ill since my conception, I come for the collection
Same ol' cash respectin' bitches I can't front yo,
Bizzy D went back to the hotel an' spelled his name in dough
I'm hella pro, a rappers work is never done
I like necks, I think I'm 'bout to suck one

I put my pressure on the corners and cave the box in
There's homicide on my breath and rhyme circles of sin
See if I don't re-animate the meat grinders grain
In the 8 wing where gray veins protrude from my gray rings
My collection of strange things include:
A barreling delivery like a Winchester and a pool full of crude
Oil in my turmoil ridden block of ill rhythm
Where cracker cockroaches talk about class division
See I'm not stuck in a strucked out function
I adapt to the place I hear the bass bumpin'
Keep every rhyme different, that's a sign of affection
Keep a bag of Buc Fifties in my cabinet of medicine

Make sure the door's locked and your deadbolt's fastened
Your worst nightmare that shares no compassion
Acid flashbacks get hacked up into fractions
Sergeant's road kill, still missing in action
An unaffectionate date, I'm section 8
Let's play, you be the bride of death and decay
Do you stay awake at night thinking of the things you should worry about?
Follow this blood trail and hurdle through the forest of doubt, til I'm out
In the wide open plains, hopin' to maintain
The same yield, but the field's littered with corpses
Death is my departure, til then I'm explosive
An overdose of death, spare me no thrill
I'm rare, bare me no ill will, I'm there
The last man standing, never call a truce
Apologize? Nah, strength needs no excuse

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I put my pressure on the corners and cave the box in 
There's homicide on my breath and rhyme circles of sin
See if I don't re-animate the meat grinders grain 
In the 8 wing where gray veins protrude from my gray rings
My collection of strange things include: 
A barreling delivery like a Winchester and a pool full of crude
Oil in my turmoil ridden block of ill rhythm 
Where cracker cockroaches talk about class division 
See I'm not stuck in a strucked out function 
I adapt to the place I hear the bass bumpin' 
Keep every rhyme different, that's a sign of affection 
Keep a bag of Buc Fifties in my cabinet of medicine

Make sure the door's locked and your deadbolt's fastened 
Your worst nightmare that shares no compassion 
Acid flashbacks get hacked up into fractions 
Sergeant's road kill, still missing in action 
An unaffectionate date, I'm section 8 
Let's play, you be the bride of death and decay 
Do you stay awake at night thinking of the things you should worry about? 
Follow this blood trail and hurdle through the forest of doubt, til I'm out 
In the wide open plains, hopin' to maintain 
The same yield, but the field's littered with corpses 
Death is my departure, til then I'm explosive 
An overdose of death, spare me no thrill 
I'm rare, bare me no ill will, I'm there 
The last man standing, never call a truce 
Apologize? Nah, strength needs no excuse