Earthtone Ideas - Elevators (Norf Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1] Dry ice terrains and nights of breath visible Like ghost leaving it's shell, hell's bells is froze well Learnt to let the soul tell what d**h didn't pull You reaching super mach speeds with your flows and I'm like "Oh well" Cheeks so swelled up and red it's roses in my pores and Bystanders staring at me saying "What the f**'s he rolling?" "He must be toked out, looking to get his broke out" "Break in feeling, reach for the ceiling, get the most out the game" All these rats is distractions, he's back in that 'Lac from the future, the frame in frost lacquering He all about real action before the redaction Never seen no reaction unfold in three fractions like when he brawl mic - two from below, one from the far right His couplets rub up tits like bark, bite Forever indebted to your highness, the rawness You blessed me with a path ma, now my wrath upon us [Hook x4] Me and you Your mama and your cousin too Rolling down the cap on colds Coming up, slamming fat pick up doors [Verse 2] Bite the mic, the style it fit in every denture Solo polo hero alley-ooping off the benches Still he gonna prosper even if you scoop him out the roster Who's to block him when his juice is concentrated? Watch him navigate the potholes baked, the pot hold is safe Drive slow, decorate road, get the cake River, lake or ocean, he'll drain it whole and expose that all the crab a**es can't hide, they bad actors Cold city dweller bout to get show busy, tell them "Get all your mits up! f** it if you frost bit up!" When he come up on the scene it's an influx of hiccups Emcees get seen to be the victims Like what the f** occurred? Was it really bad timing? Or no coincidence since these s**ers bad at rhyming? He the Peter Gatien of the rap nation Canuck supplying clubs - an international equation Y'all aging fetuses lack patience to tap greatness Encyclopedias in need of fat updating If you still with me on the track and want some facts, the front's already packed so here's a story for the back It was St. Laurent and Brittany, beginning of the symphony Storm hustle down, busy roar like a victory Pissy poor delivery - three words not spoken bout the cold clout Test it, you'll never get the fourth out This ain't your everyday neighborhood crew, they knock a tooth loose like Yaga rock a broom On that fly sh**, you'll see that molar only if the time shift The clock of doom is not a hand you wanna chime in You want some beef, but it seems you never get inside it Always on the edges like the bread is, you was uninvited Get your bucks but it's guns off bun-soft Bet your bucks that your nuts runs off, flat sack Had to go jack the beat, Calico Jack the pirate Hold the weight of being hated if it mean prevent expiring Style like tobogganing, he thriving on the slope Some of y'all just talk, he riding what he wrote Ice pick to pad, raw stories from the alpine tribe The kid mad like a buffalo in Russia Cold crush the puppet show, tug a bow and rush you Such a sharp dressed man, stand close enough the cuff will cut you Must you bust your nut before the verse done? You got me all concerned, this is still the first one Burping bourbon working nursing hurt lungs My spit don't even make tips, oh what a cursed pun [Hook x2] Me and you Your mama and your cousin too Rolling down the cap on colds Coming up, slamming fat pick up doors