Tilt

Anti Pop Consortium

Compositor: Não Disponível

Tilt
Your frame ain't built for this angle
Lateral battle moves, we strike on command
With this mic in hand we ignite like c4
And see through your paper this schemes

[High Priest]
It's about to get more ugly than the faces of broken homes
With no china, bitter reminder, finder
Figuratively speaking i'm like flex
Index on the next tunnel banger
Unbending a hanger to strangle or stab men in the abdomen
Grab my head to stop the shakes
Bake crates and take tapes to create new webs
But for the love of the mic there is nothing
That's what a rapper thinks
What happened to being passionate about life
Your spider scence is tingling
Fingering new singles to select hi, i electrify microbes
Incite crowds like a knife tossed off the top of the twin towers
Wonder twin powers deactivate
Decapitate these apes and finally make them understand

Tilt
Your frame ain't built for this angle
Lateral battle moves, we strike on command
With this mic in hand we ignite like c4
And see through your paper this schemes

[Beans]
Stupendous shuffleboard shifting
Indescribable like inkblot
Never the frail perils provokes popular plague perish
Poverty jet set
Empty bottle figurine bodies built for speed
Bulimic cheerleader night ladies
Who resemble underweight premature crack babies
Circle like sharks undressed in the surf for cheap thrills
But any upper class numbskull like coke on the head of your cock
Shoot the horse to make glue, send you on the road to glory
Kick crash
Cast feet are dead, banished with bandwidth
Banging heads mc's on empty
Embrace my warm reception like blowing the nose with sandpaper
Any time after now
My always tight as a tube top ignition
Remains stable like staples as sheets to the bed
Father of your abortion
No need for memories with a dictators generocity
Diction of velocity chokes the respirator

[M. Sayyid]
Next shit slaps and spit out cats
Into the ring off the canvas
Into the press with the cameras
Work it out like seventeen hammers
Sayyid last seen with skeletons on scanners
Room sixteen, the tropicana
Where the lovin' is good and my focus is dopest
So boast this concussion and comatoses
Better be ready to battle before i ghost kids
Overdosage of volts, quote quote
My shit splashed liquied nasty like a cyst out of the wrist
Unquote, dope like a belt, vein, and a fist
Slip your disk, break your back and put it back back to the shack
In the back of the back of the back where i laugh with a hat
Open a latch, spark a match, and walk onto the track
Marlboro red you
Change myself into chuch scarborough and walk out of the bedroom
Unwebbable bisymmetric centrifugal nonshiftable mineral pivotable
Wild east nile, up close into your nose hole i roll
Lop-sided in a vial, slide into the disease file
With piles of styles in crates
Smash your face into the shape of new york state

Tilt
Your frame ain't built for this angle
Lateral battle moves, we strike on command
With this mic in hand we ignite like c4
And see through your paper this schemes