Bronze Nazareth, RZA - Fresh from the Morgue lyrics
[Bronze Nazareth, RZA - Fresh from the Morgue lyrics]
Yeah, nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill chain still the
Back of a gorilla
Records so sharp, DJ's slash their finger
We chop trees never yellin' "timber"
Float off on leaves
Cough and wheeze a Magellan drifter
Off the Richter scale triple-beam
Coffin lifter
Subliminal seminal, often lifted
Incredibly criminal
How it goes off on the discus
Breakfast is my lunch the feds heard my song
Now they wanna search my trunk
Told 'em got that white in
The sheets of that numb photo-copied bright
I'm that sign in your palm
Turned 'em zombie-white like the
Sickest in the morn
Impregnate the song molotvs tossed
Detonate engulf my blogs
I take what I want, you niggas still beggin'
And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt
I bought a building
Sicilians and gold Brazilians over
My lap like pavilions
If anyone dare touch 'em
They might as well commit 'em
Bobby Steel and Bronze Nazareth
Combination's too hazardous
The infliction, the past descriptions
Known by no-one adjectives beyond fabulous
With small stars and asterisks
While I descend from the most high
Draped in star catalyst crumbled MC's
Keep a pocket full of crumbled cheese
Not a tuna fish
But I been in a can with bumble bees
Raw is ill sickness can't be
Cured by small pills
Take large corporate checks
And cash 'em in small bills
Keep the gat in a shoulder strap
Quicker than a Kodak snap
Twist a nigga wig back
Like a fuckin' soda cap
Nigga, ain't supposed to rap I make movies
Them boys poke they chest out
Like they fake boobies
Put some D's on it, put some cheese on it
The blunt is split open, nigga
Put some trees on it
But listen, this bishop-realistic rap-mystic
Got more rhymes and beats
Than I could ever solicit
So I give you a freebie
You better smile when you see me
Poppin' on your silver screen or upon your TV
B-O-B-B-Y? Because we like you
D-IG-I T-A-L still hard as
Hell and rock bells
Motherfucker flip the head, I take the tails
They must've missed it, son the Digit
They didn't know we had jelly on the biscuit
So they foolish
Why would this motherfucker risk it?
Just to become another police statistic
Bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
My insane cocaine cowboy
That mean I ride the beat like a white horse
Propane out-pour i'm out for a bigger
Catch fishscale drought war
My drought raw like Russ Jones
Salute to the outlaw
I'ma sprout raw like a tumor and branch out
Devout fans bottleneck the venue I air it out
I'm the heir that y'all
Niggas don't hear about
They scared to say my name five
Times in the mirror now
Everything clearer now I'm pro-active
\cause I clear 'em out
Abort mission, tear 'em out the frame
You a old picture you a field negro, you a
Old pitcher, on the grind, past your prime
I'm a spring chicken spring training
On you lame victims
My blade drippin' Mary Jane
Henchman higher plane intention
Human Can't reach em I'm so ill
Bring in the nurses to see him
My bitch purse is bulimic the
Reason: up my per diem
Seein' the beats leave
Stiffen the fingers D's on the victim
My ninja hit me with these
Vintage words of wisdom:
"You hang with four broke niggas
Be the fifth one" yeah fresh from the morgue
I'm so ill just came from the morgue and shit
Bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Killa Hill bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Killa Hill
Yeah, nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
Bob is ill, son boy, Bronze is ill
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill chain still the
Back of a gorilla
Records so sharp, DJ's slash their finger
We chop trees never yellin' "timber"
Float off on leaves
Cough and wheeze a Magellan drifter
Off the Richter scale triple-beam
Coffin lifter
Subliminal seminal, often lifted
Incredibly criminal
How it goes off on the discus
Breakfast is my lunch the feds heard my song
Now they wanna search my trunk
Told 'em got that white in
The sheets of that numb photo-copied bright
I'm that sign in your palm
Turned 'em zombie-white like the
Sickest in the morn
Impregnate the song molotvs tossed
Detonate engulf my blogs
I take what I want, you niggas still beggin'
And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt
I bought a building
Sicilians and gold Brazilians over
My lap like pavilions
If anyone dare touch 'em
They might as well commit 'em
Bobby Steel and Bronze Nazareth
Combination's too hazardous
The infliction, the past descriptions
Known by no-one adjectives beyond fabulous
With small stars and asterisks
While I descend from the most high
Draped in star catalyst crumbled MC's
Keep a pocket full of crumbled cheese
Not a tuna fish
But I been in a can with bumble bees
Raw is ill sickness can't be
Cured by small pills
Take large corporate checks
And cash 'em in small bills
Keep the gat in a shoulder strap
Quicker than a Kodak snap
Twist a nigga wig back
Like a fuckin' soda cap
Nigga, ain't supposed to rap I make movies
Them boys poke they chest out
Like they fake boobies
Put some D's on it, put some cheese on it
The blunt is split open, nigga
Put some trees on it
But listen, this bishop-realistic rap-mystic
Got more rhymes and beats
Than I could ever solicit
So I give you a freebie
You better smile when you see me
Poppin' on your silver screen or upon your TV
B-O-B-B-Y? Because we like you
D-IG-I T-A-L still hard as
Hell and rock bells
Motherfucker flip the head, I take the tails
They must've missed it, son the Digit
They didn't know we had jelly on the biscuit
So they foolish
Why would this motherfucker risk it?
Just to become another police statistic
Bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
My insane cocaine cowboy
That mean I ride the beat like a white horse
Propane out-pour i'm out for a bigger
Catch fishscale drought war
My drought raw like Russ Jones
Salute to the outlaw
I'ma sprout raw like a tumor and branch out
Devout fans bottleneck the venue I air it out
I'm the heir that y'all
Niggas don't hear about
They scared to say my name five
Times in the mirror now
Everything clearer now I'm pro-active
\cause I clear 'em out
Abort mission, tear 'em out the frame
You a old picture you a field negro, you a
Old pitcher, on the grind, past your prime
I'm a spring chicken spring training
On you lame victims
My blade drippin' Mary Jane
Henchman higher plane intention
Human Can't reach em I'm so ill
Bring in the nurses to see him
My bitch purse is bulimic the
Reason: up my per diem
Seein' the beats leave
Stiffen the fingers D's on the victim
My ninja hit me with these
Vintage words of wisdom:
"You hang with four broke niggas
Be the fifth one" yeah fresh from the morgue
I'm so ill just came from the morgue and shit
Bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Killa Hill bob is ill, ill, ill Bob is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Bronze is ill, ill, ill Bronze is ill
Killa Hill
Yeah, nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill
Bob is ill, son boy, Bronze is ill