Good Grief

Urban Dance Squad

Composición de: Michel Schoots/Patrick Ian Tilon/Ren/Silvano Matadin
My style is triple, quadruple, damage for mc's 
I make 'em huff 'n puff like mufflers for meineke 
Human exhaust, you wanna get lost ? 
Rhymes plus exxon ride brains like alain prost 
Mc clowns, I blaze towns 
I dragwheel skulls, leave with speed 'n dust cloud 
All you monkeys, donkeys, alternative junkies 
I'm strictly t-rex, 'n my rap just crunch, see 
The jive 'n babble, throw heavy scrabble 
Sparkles plus the bubbles plus the flavor like snapple 
All you socalled rebels heavy metal cattle 
Some horses got force but I simply tame with saddle 
Hunt a stunt like 'red october', ain't crossin' over 
Oops ! scud scrub ? patriot makes pulver 
The music hits, fierce as it is 
Check the brothers in the crowd that 'hiss' 
Good grief 

Industry check to mac, and wanna know me 
I kick against control untamed like wild pony 
Stay lonely like tony, attract like coney island 
My style man, don't need no master, flasher 
Test a prankster gangster like a gatt much faster 
Get the band aid, the kid front hard knock 
I sport more techniques confidential than fort knox 
Sort of tool - glock - automatic on the static 
Synthetic - plastic ?- you stay ready with the cascet 
I throw a style, now a freak wants to test it 
It's crazy mega fab, makes your hottie cher 
I crush mc jaws who oughtta be chandelier 
And drop the ltter - on the quitter 
The survival-rival gets stranger 
Much fitter 
Worldwide you get served like stinky cheese 
More force than a sexual intercourse 
So mc's please ! 
Brothers amaze - keep 'em all in a daze 
With the wild funk blaze 
Good grief 

One time for your mind now, as I have to climb now 
Step by step now, where your rap now 
I kick the flavor like a wes craven 
People under my stairs wanna steal like raven 
Black with breaks wanna croak when spoken to 
Some shitty nonsense beat, you gotta be jokin' too 
The rhyme enforcer, rhythm corsair 
Hit the core with force, well of course oh ! 
Don't give me that lip lip 
Like he thought that he could 
I frown on bullshit like my name's clint eastwood 
You come with fronts, stunts 'n poses 
I welcome you to my jungle 
Like my name was guns 'n roses 
I blast the sound, you check the sound 
You gotz to be down, and be like charlie brown 
Saying good grief
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