TyC // 95 KiD - Bring The Boom Back (Flow On Sofas) lyrics

(Verse 1: TyC) Style of the 9, I'm high by so far Riddle on the rythm, I flow on sofas Herb, weed, Kush, and edibles Hung by the feed I dun push incredible No cheese in my mail, n***as gon tell me Im dun with my fail But I got a dream and a story to tell Hell Oh, well, I guess I bid farewell Let me get back on my boondocks Watching the DOOM talk Feeling like Riley aiming guns at your 2rocks Let the boom rock, do a moonwalk Psycho like Michael, you too blocked Entertainer, You a hater Don't wanna be an anime Payed as a waitor - Want to be a better man - wanna be a saint Want to be another man Than a skin paint This be my Pedigree Mind of Serenity Colors, I'm blind to identity Other sounds of the chemistry Spillin on the page while the judge speaks a penalty (Hook: TyC) The FBI wants me sk**s, no sh** I make em see through mists, they know which Which is the right, and which is the left Bump up your speakers, we teaching those left It's about the old school, don't tell me I told you You bold fools with no flow and no j**els No food produced, no swing, and no boom baps So what I do, stay ruled to bring the boom back (Verse 2: TyC) This is be the score for abstract explosions LSD minds, who smell bleach roses Yes he be guided By minds who drink potions Close your eyes and find a new motion Having me pulled by the gravity See an*logy, fools duel at acadamies I'm a fool, give food and get stool, anatomies Cruel calamity, drown them inside pools, in sanity I Silence dem‘ with Silencers Sniper is silently sniping em down with slight lences I write senses, not lyrics, these be unexpressed Another brother in a civic, ryhming underdressed I just guessed I might fetch fly sticks Yes, I stay blessed, not stressed Other Mc's get fletched at Terrier, yo where my man Rex at? Word to pico, out in Puerto Rico Buenosico, leave the sicko psycho Strive out to the people, I stay medeval This illegal, I rhyme styles, the FBI want no sequel (Hook: TyC) The FBI wants me sk**s, no sh** I make others see through mists, they know which Which is the right, and which is the left Bump up your speakers, we teaching those left It's about the old school, don't tell me I told you You bold fools with no flow and no j**els No food produced, no swing, and no boom baps So what I do, stay ruled to bring the boom back