Boxing Music - We are the Future | Текст песни

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• Boxing Music
• We are the Future

We are, the motherfucking future

[Ill Bill]
Aiyo we murderous, I be holding more heat than thermoses
You get your loot housed, then get into shootouts, with secret servicemen
It's Ill Bill, Non Phixion
We pop biscuits at these poppy sissies claiming hip hop
You get your mop twisted
Break-dance, break every bone in your body
Bury you alive and dance on your grave like Rocksteady
A lot of rappers be pussy like Tom Petty
I told you "The Future is Now" dummy
Is y'all ready?
Spoke to the ghost of Christ, the poltergeist
Designed a prototype mind control device
Told the price to everybody
Then sold it to Bill Gates for 8 billion
I bought the Empire State Building and gave it to the children
Hold the 9 milli toast really close to villain
Smoked it with the fresh philly snow blind in the snow blizzard
Legend has it that before war I worship Satan
Drink human blood and have orgies amongst masons
Catching brain from the President's wife, the Illuminati can suck my dick
So I can bust my shit
Hits from the bong with Tom Brokaw
Twist my dust up in Bible pages and smoke folklore
Like a coke straw in a drug clinic I'm inappropriate
My people stay blunted out like Soviets
Blow up the rig with an exploding Motorola flip
Leave you soaking wet
Like a hot tub, pussy, coke, and Moet

Spit the coldest shit at chicks, to make they nipples pop out
Flip the coke shit for bricks, when the single hops out
Luxury whips, equipped for rap stars and drop outs
Ghetto celebrities, Double D bitches and knock-outs
Never leave the hood cats, two dollar sandwich hood rats
With a free soda, medicated twice we ogre
Double dip blunts, we Non Phixion, game over
My man's solo shit on cable got the game sober
How I became a soldier, paperbacks, top seller
My life story: how I went from mail fraud to porn seller
Y'all know Gore, nice with the words since ‘84
Rifles galore, satellites attached to the floor
Munching on veal parm' like human arm
Up at your record label, real bomb, smacking VP's with real charm
I'm a nice cat, till the Paxil runs out, and guys dumb out
Ice picks, ecstasy rings get run out
Selling rap tapes like cancer rappers
I'm by your crib with a gate that deflates and shoots arrows
Produce pharaohs attack you with chrome, shatter your bones
The world's fucked, call Jackie Stallone, her wire's tapped as well as my own
I lace the President with C-4, under his bed
Them Feds never found the books, freebase, or hollowheads

I'm on a five day fast, Flash Gordon blast award
And cash hording; launder money for rainy day sessions
Expose your weapons, lessons value life like some game of Battleship Connect 4
Gat equipped, t-t-t-tatter shit adequate aim, we came in to shatter the game
I'm mad at your gain; imagine the pain, when I splatter your brain
Conscious lyrics cancel out demons, monsters, and spirits
Marsha dearest, freed your soul allowed amongst the clearest
Visionaries, Sabac Red's a missionary
My vision varies align with the minds of kings in theory
Illustrated like Vaughn Bode, Cheech Wizard
Explicit when I kick it I only talk it ‘cause I live it
Brooklyn done did it, money fast life, my cash right
Blast mics, I been tore the fuck up since last night
It's clear, everywhere is war, the streets scarred me
The god be singing freedom songs like Bob Marley
Watch me, on the trains, yelling street news, selling street blues
Built with my peoples, Muslims and Hebrews
Positive cats, I build with cats who want to shoot you
No competition, Non Phixion, welcome to the future

(Scratched)
We... Are... The Future
We... Are... The Future
We... Are... The Future

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