Cancion : Pump
Artista : Bionic Jive
Album : Armageddon Through Your Speakers
Url : https://www.letras10.co/letra-pump-de-bionic-jive


Are you ready for a brother with a mouth full of hand-grenades?
Watch a brothers tongue serenade
With the grace of a razor blade over butter
In the middle of a heat wave (peep ways)
Got a baby on every part of the city
'Cause I'm street made
Did you really want to clash with me?
Cause I'mma paint a picture sad to see
Like a brother from a rope in an apple tree
Did you really believe these abilities couldn't achieve
Filling my pockets with the cheese and the broccoli?
(Watch you trippin' on)
Some of that shit that be killing off the ozone
Mention my clique Now she don't want to put her clothes on
Better recognize who to idolize over tracks
Or catch a match to the batch
Of the kerosene for the pay back
'Cause the S.W. never play that
Eliminate 'em till the moon fade black
(Never get sentimental) on an instrumental
When it's complemental to the mental psycho
Alpha, disco, quick to split your riddle
From the max to the minimal
(Chorus)
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump, yeah
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump, whatcha trippin' on?
Pump, pump, pump, pump
Terminal condition when the mic in position
To slit 'em from the solar plexus to the neck up
Giving them a hemorrhage with the double concussion
Propelling through my nemesis multiple combination in 3D
Images split a wig when a fool trip
Never mind what your sipping on, what you trippin' on?
Is it tricks or the rims on the Brougham
Or the way my city get it gritty in your time zone?
Monologue got your mind blown
Keep you ducking in the bushes when the infrared roam
Turn up the volume and watch a poetical prophecy properly
Rock the philosophy made for the rap game
I paid dues, slayed crews for the rap game
Drop flows, got chose for the rap game
I'm suicidal off the cliff ready to dive
(version 1)
What, what, what, come on
(version 2)
Into the depths of the pyramids where my jewels stay crisp
In the tomb with the gods in the form of a monsoon
Mind my mind, in a sand dune
(Chorus)
Psycho, alphabetical, street ministry
Question (whatcha trippin' on?)
Was it the night we dragged your hommie through the night club
Made him fold up when he loc'd up
Droppin' heat seekers to his dome
Like a hot comb to his dome when he spoke up
All adversaries look away when the A to the K O M A C K
Get to rippin' through the cable with the wrath of stray a bullet
Bet your corner catch a ricochet
Propelling parallel with the light speed laid back
Like a knock kneed, eye to eye with the enemy
While the telepathy proceed to achieve
Blowing enemies to a realm in a calm breeze
(I shall) rip it till my lungs cease
(Proceed) spittin' game in the city streets
(And continue) rippin' heads off of robeast
Sincerely yours black mack with the khakis creased
Whatcha trippin' on?
(Chorus)


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