Boxguts - Fishermen lyrics

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Boxguts - Fishermen lyrics

[Mike2Twenty] I'm in a full 4 by 4 foot planet where I'm gigantic Not much for my own, in deep space touching your dome Keep space I need shoulder room to be home Atmosphere's cold in degree situation prone to gravity I bend time space to fill the black hole cavity Big Bang theory to me? Holding the matter freeze My mom must've been f**ed by alien anatomy And that's why my paps didn't know how to play daddy Schools is anarchy, I learned from Brooklyn Academy Everywhere I wear my degree I'm proud of the badge you see My last CD overwrite you like graffiti Poster piece, the poster child for the most at ease Probably gangster, probably thug, proud gangster I don't see myself and all these problems ain't my nature [Boxguts] Man I ain't bragging, I'm just rapping So I'm kicking back laughing, it gets 'em so mad at me "f** out there man. Give 'em a face looking like scabs on a meth head." I shot out in '82 been rapping since the 90's Stay strapped on tracks, attack with rapid fire rhyming Lines pack n clap the iron, my yap could trap a lion You in the trap, who buying? I spit them facts, you lying I'll get the daggers flying, And rip yer jacket's lining I look at them wack kids smiling and want to bash their minds in Yo you strapped for cash man? That's exactly why I'm styling Try stacking up a couple racks and climbing You still popping them tags and racking trash designers While I'm smashing n grinding Gapping a fat vagina laid back on mats reclining N awaken to breaking your faces N backs with bats and axes Cause the Guts is nutso and happy to spaz violence No new acts could match or pa** my labs ridiculous climates Little big man, lit match, you ga**ed, I will get at you firing My clan's Box Reb, B.A.G.s, n the cla**ic Virus Shout out to Sebrox, CCR, Matt, and Iapetus Fans and b**hes thick a**es clap at us Don't bust no caps at us But glad as f**, cats stay mad at us just cause I know we thrash And I'm a keep smashing til I reach splashing guts Man I ain't bragging, I'm just rapping So I'm kicking back laughing, it gets 'em so mad at me "How the f** you gonna front on Blunt Forced Trauma man? Yokes on the beat. Kane & Hash with the juice."

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