Hence forth; step within my psychoanalysis
Callouses upon my mind make me strain for my lines
Out I ripped it; squeezed the brain, it made some liquid
Drained it in a cup and then I sipped it
Atmosphere; The mic, let me clutch it
Thoughts take flight, so fit the Slug in your pipe
And take a puff kid
Fuck it - I heat it like a tea pot, steam hot
Upon the roof: shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot
Take aim, here I came, I'm the same
Back in '86, I'da tag my name upon your window pane
Stained the mind, a deep shade of residue
Voices within the head make choices multiple
Multiply Spawn, Slug a little buzz
And Atmosphere the scuds, cuz here comes the judge
Blasted; so past the kid a mic so we can paint this
Image of the gifted-anxious to flip the language
It's the noun meltdown from the outer-shell now
Smell the burning flesh, fresh from the hell-bound
And come on down here, this mind path, I'm half-
Mathematic Atmospheric staff with the rhyme craft
Comin' to capture, your after-laughter
While I'm hangin' from this rafter, I have to rip this rapture
'Cause the cramps in my stomach, dismantle
When I tamper wit your amplify, you damned; you die
Why try?
The sky presents an eternally unfolding spectacle
One moment puffs of cumulus clouds skitter across it
And next, a billowing thunderhead perhaps 10 miles high
Looms over the horizon, probing the structure of the sky
Why try?
'Cause I can read an emcee from front to back
From the cover to the classified
I've pacified my mind with my rhyme skills
I climb hills and leap
Foolish twits with a single bound
Sending tingles down your spine, designed to swing and pound
This ax-handle-tripled-inch-spike protruding
From the tip of my mic, distrubutin' fuckin' headshots
Shots to your head
Now you're knee-deep, you need sleep
As you trudge through the sludge and the slugs and the bird shit
We swarm with the bees and diseases
And even if your DJ was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids
I've swarmed with the bees and diseases
And even if your DJ was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids
Yea muthafucka! You know who you fuckin' with
You know what kind ass-whooping comes with this
Your whole crew can get some of this
You whack-as-fuck kids is what the subject is
Roughnecks live for only a second
Then they give oblivion's, what you've stepped in
Your reps tooken, should have been lookin'
I'm sick of you bitch-ass crews when
You tried take what's not your's but you couldn't
Take mine, your fake rhymes, spit them you shouldn't
What will it be now? Another victory
Ey-yo, who will it be now? It's Spawn, that emcee
Complete, a true champ, stamped that on my essence
Amped shootin' presence, fatten each fuckin' sentence
When its time, then it's time to go
That's what I know, be rippin' mics at every show we flow
But who's got my back though?
Stress, Beyond, ANT, and Sluggo
So you best be on your way before there's trouble, crumble
1597 Lyrics performed by Atmosphere are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that 1597 Lyrics performed by Atmosphere is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD