Scum, Tragik, Ill Temper - Respekt (Black Soulz) paroles de (lyrics)

Yo, this gathering of the lost minds
Smells of death spells it out
Like them tossed nines (yeah)
No more finds like the FEDs will not find you
Don't be blind as we creep up behind you
(Hey) hear the squeal of the tires
Then the gun clack (Scrrp)
Pin you down to the ground like a thumb tack
(Thump) and demand some respect
Blow this last chance (Boom)
They be speaking of you in the past tense

You better show some respect
Better check what you think 'bout
The scene that we in
It's not just booze that we drink
Not just drugs that we do and
Not just us chasing hoes
It is work rocking shows and
Digging holes for our foes (yeah)
And it is work that dangers us tremendously
Motherfuckers crumble and fall apart
Before your eyes
Many get hurt while some will die infamously
More common guys forgotten days after he dies
So go buy an album from
An underground artist or else
That artist might give up and
Get a gun instead (Boom)
Of dropping songs nobody likes
He's going where the crowd is
That never came to any shows
And many end up dead (yeah)
It's not that hard to show some
Love much easier than running on
Bloody stumps or we won't take your
Shit and take your feet
This underground will never die meanwhile
Your time is coming
So better show us some respect the
Next time that we meet

Yo, this gathering of the lost minds
Smells of death spells it out
Like them tossed nines (yeah)
No more finds like the FEDs will not find you
Don't be blind as we creep up behind you
(Hey) hear the squeal of the tires
Then the gun clack (Scrrp)
Pin you down to the ground like a thumb tack
(Thump) and demand some respect
Blow this last chance (Boom)
They be speaking of you in the past tense

You stole my respect tators
Loading a foul choice
Your talks need Altoids that can
Grow when I found ploys
Far from in the midnight church
Go and I sprout joy sacrificial suicide
It's time to throw in the towel boy
Bickering in pants and these
Rodents make loud noise
All bark, no bite the broke with a proud void
Empty try, fill up holding that growl voice
They shout, i make incisions 'til they fully
Open and gouge joints
Scooping out ligaments
You're of the heart but not living it
Vivid with the vividness you'll be frigid
In a minute quick and different
Don't give a shit, read the realm wickedness
Alcohol, drugs, seizures
Concussions now this is sick
Man his brain damaged sitting in
The clinic with unexplainable lacerations
Wouldn't believe the images
Pleading innocent demons the only witness
This crazy pain made me slain
Limitless victims this ain't frivolous, yo

Yo, this gathering of the lost minds
Smells of death spells it out
Like them tossed nines (yeah)
No more finds like the FEDs will not find you
Don't be blind as we creep up behind you
(Hey) hear the squeal of the tires
Then the gun clack (Scrrp)
Pin you down to the ground like a thumb tack
(Thump) and demand some respect
Blow this last chance (Boom)
They be speaking of you in the past tense

(Tragik)
I demand respect even when the fans have left
(yeah) me and SCUM will put yo ass in check
I forget I cup it and rip it
Original leave ya plasma wet
All over your shirt you're gonna get merked
Down the mic if you step
Like an avalanche I travel fast
Ravage from here to Halifax
Gathering up the fragile
And smacking them with my battle axe (Smack)
These rappers cannot see me cause
They're teamy and have cataracts
I get under your skin so much it'll
Give your fucking dad a rash (Ha)
Who coming to get what is mine?
Shaking the game with a thunder sound
(Fuck you)
If you try making divides and breaking
The spine of the underground
Never happened, better strap in
Struggle leads to better rapping fed up
Not really but I give you the
Boot bitch salute your captain (Heels up)
Ain't got backing man we fund this ourselves
Studio time
Music videos among everything else (yeah)
The Gorefather and Tragik man (yeah)
There be no doubt bitch (Naw)
We'll be making our ways to the grave
R-IP Geno Cultshit (No cult shit)

Yo, this gathering of the lost minds
Smells of death spells it out
Like them tossed nines (yeah)
No more finds like the FEDs will not find you
Don't be blind as we creep up behind you
(Hey) hear the squeal of the tires
Then the gun clack (Scrrp)
Pin you down to the ground like a thumb tack
(Thump) and demand some respect
Blow this last chance (Boom)
They be speaking of you in the past tense