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lyrics
PUMP YOUR BRAKES
Lyrics by Deacon Burns
(Verse 1)
Got a kite mentality on a rainy day when lighting is frightening when I've been drinking.
(I'll) never stop spitting till they put me in my coffin, whether you ignore it or listen.
Quick to drain any lyricists essence leaving only an organ-less, boneless, toothless, brainless bag of flesh.
I'm like metal objects in the microwave punching hot shrapnel in your chest.
Venomous lyrics, infected track. No antidote.
So I suggest my dude you use the back door.
Kounterclockwise in the front, talking loud, smoking blunts, downing shots, getting pumped.
The show’s about to start, we tear the stage apart, the trigger got no heart, so be afraid of the dark.
That's when freaks like me wander the streets, looking for beef, so stay at home before we meet.
(Chorus)
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
(You) better pump your brakes, whoa!
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
better pump your brakes, whoa!
(Verse 2)
Your organ of hearing; consisting of external, middle, and internal ear
Will now embark on this lyrical spark
Transmitted throughout the atmosphere
MC-s better beware
of my dysfunctional and unstable mental.
Crews get man-handled, left crippled & disabled, like me!
I'll deflate your balloon mind-state and ego.
Ni**as be short, better stand on your tippy toes.
Baby here we go, strap yourselves in.
It's about to blow, detonate the C-4.
I ignite the mic, pack the pipe, think twice.
I don't want no trouble but I'll shoot ya Bit@h!
If you don't quit gonna break my foot off in your ass. Ni**a get!
This ain’t no threat, it's a promise.
I'm straight up serious.
It's about to get dangerous.
Chorus:
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
(You) better pump your brakes, whoa!
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
better pump your brakes, whoa!
(Verse 3)
Check one, two, as I rock the mic!
Mentally in flight like a string-less kite.
Hahahaha! Little ni**a this is fright night
and they call me ‘The Count’ with platinum chains in your jugular veins.
I'm like a dog with mange when I bite, Yipes!
Dr. Strange got you in range, take aim,
release the hammer, the bloodstains, the walls, the windows, the ceilings, the floors.
Like Whodini I’m a whore from which it's like a lion when I roar.
Find me in the ghetto on the corner like a liquor store.
My spirit is torn fighting an internal civil war
Full of guts and gore.
I'm a wreck, looking for a place to happen.
I'm a mess, my body's all bruised and broken.
There's no rest for the possessed in their coffins.
Just death surrounded by stress.
Here's the ending…
(Chorus)
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
(You) better pump your brakes, whoa!
When we ride we ride low.
Kicking in your door like POPO.
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
Better pump your brakes, whoa!
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
Better pump your brakes, whoa!
Don't try to run, you're too slow.
Better pump your brakes, whoa!
Cleveland Heights' Alternative Punk-Hop act Kounterclockwise formed over a decade ago in the heart of the South Bronx. Lead by multi-instrumentalist producer, engineer, writter, director & MC Deacon Burns
Combination Unsolved is an alternative hip hop super group made up of ten MC'S from Cleveland Heights Ohio. With a abstract boom bap underground hip hop sound. kounterclockwise
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