Kyza - It's All Live lyrics

[Scratches] "Comin' to ya live, live, live"... [Verse 1: Supa T] It's the psychedelic phlegm lord, space walk boogie don Shadow king telepath, f** Telecom Hundred hand clapper, rapper Spud shoulder, grudge holder Half pint o whisky with a shot of Coca-Cola Light-weights lashed off a sip, clockin' my cypher Blaze saddles, Gene Wilder, it's the sun rider Sickist sound provider, one man tornado Know smashing tracks like Tony knew yayo Machismo schizo, sensitive with ammo Top-cat, close friends get to call me 'Django' White mans play Dibble, shove ya 2nd hand right rule book Straight up your arse now play second fiddle It's that simple, bear-hug precussion Time for headz to do somethin', waiting on a black Russian Jehst, Kyza, Harry Love hold a heavyweight phrase I done blaze with MK, since the West Ken days Shout to big john, that's right it never stops Bods got pranged like they smoked off of twenty rocks Can't prevail digi like electric scales I spit back liquid, surf tsunamis on a k**er-whale You understand me? Sharp like rap CDT stanley So all you f**ing emcees switch to plan b! Django van smash the world til the world knows You think it's easy? You can come and smell my work clothes [Chorus] Yo.. Always watch for the spies and the ones who kanive Tryna do all to survive, understand it's all live "Comin' to ya live, live, live"... [Verse 2: Jehst] I do this for hermits with herb habits who burn cabbage Green-bag gatherin', batterin' earth language The most heavy handed wrapped in a dirt bandage Slappin' a verse, amateurs learn my words challenge The gem-drop, greasy hand in the pen-pot Pent-up stress got Jehst bunnin' fresh crops Red-hot rapper, green cross on my veg plot Hedge-hop allotments, bop on cement blocks Players get sent off! They feel like they know Where they are but they're still in a sense lost Ten spots get twisted up like dread-locks Head-nod hip-hop fresh from tha sweat-shop It's slave labour, we chase paper The snail's paced trail-blazer On a 5-foot hot-step, a long haul for the box-fresh Sandstone body-rock, deeper than loch ness Connect like Lennon and McCartney, master bare palmed Barbwire origami, army fatigue clan Fingerz deep in the weedsack Free-hand scribble, paint dribble on a neat tag Alot of people need feedback, squeeze the caffeine outta teabag Break out of rehab, finger tap-tappin' on the key-pad Typewritin'; hi-lighting the strength of a rhyme tightened [Chorus] {X2} [Verse 3: Kyza] I'm in another plain, rugged terrains where I explore And study laws, ancient wars and folk-lore My sweat pours through pores as I walk the hills and moors Openin' lock doors with the keys that dreams forge Lessons are taught but still knowledge is sought And faces contort from the wounds of battles fought More souls died at dawn as orphans cryed and mourn Clothes ragged and life's edges are jagged and worn A rebel without cause, with no pause for thought I'm mentally distraught plus no brevs support When escape attempts from my prison amount to nought It's my feelings that these demons wanna extort The blood draws as my fists pound the brick walls I curse the earth as me and lucifer lock horns I swore to the lord and my soul once before That I would rid earths shores free from Devil's spawn And kids born from wars with snake tongues and claws Open sores raw, and spit drips from their jaws The visual lies blind the eyes of the poor Young King's and Queen's being used as pawns But the price of my life is much more than I can afford So Satan's call at all times must be ignored I stand unsure in my hand a bloody sword I can't absorb all the trauma I've endured As I retrace steps on lawns walked on before Where shattered dreams lay fragmented on the floor All in all I'm in mental free-fall But my thoughts soar with the speed of concordes I can't make sense of distorted metaphors That are stuck in my mind like daggers, swords and thorns These unsteady hands jaded pictures are drawn By the child of the corn whose mental fabric is torn [Chorus] {X2} [Scratches]