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Typical Cats - Qweloquiallisms lyrics
* send corrections to the typist For the hell of it You spit irrelevant Delicate flows Speak child Intelligent, Mellow shit kills fellowships ___ freestyles Smile. Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics Perfection stepped in Three guesses who the best is Check it, Check it Hello, Hello Yo Yo I am, I ams dumb, dumb Can, Can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock? Well, Well um, um Fear, fear kids, kids Cans, cans spray paint _____ Look out below, its that flow that you were shoutin' 'bout so loud Crush flows in mudslides Ha ha that ra(?) in punchlines Funny like when the thug sun dies at moonrise I'm sunshine Echos at graveyards are speakin' of us(Echoed) Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs Feed the needy Fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes _____ in a hollow-safeguard(?) Dollars in graveyards fill your graves Listen through submission and sadistic cultures And demon's guns surround our suns like Copernicus-tic vultures Soldier's clothing Golden swoling(?) Souls in carcass herses Curse your first-person And search for serpents in our verses Your crew bleeds too profusely Who gave groupies ______ Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade class mate Who's got cooties Excuse me, emcees Pretending not to envy me But readily sending he____ of frenzy centipedes Motherfuckers lack intensity And can't rhyme either I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs Become a believer You blow like you're poprocks with 3 liters The shit's on.(?) Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half Mine are big-boned These styles be free Qwel sees above weak emcees Decibel levels An infinite ______ Tesicle Jokes Investin'in broke for lines Not as dope as mine Needs work rehearse your speech slurs I won like three thirds Censor the census On my five senses And unisex the mutants 'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans The worst heard herbal verbalist My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch Servin' kids, track Turnicates, Smashin' furnishings after class With the get in your ass pass, rappin backwards Askin' for herbs and the last laugh, laugh |
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