The Alchemist, Fashawn - Gone in 60 Seconds lyrics
The Alchemist [Alan Daniel Maman] Beverly Hills, CA, U.S. 🇺🇸
[The Alchemist, Fashawn - Gone in 60 Seconds lyrics]
My brain is a full sheet, never going blank
I’m too deep
Don’t ever underestimate how loud
The truth speak
The black sheep waving in the
Air the black heat
Making niggas run it like track meets
My voice sound crazy on the snare, that beat
My hat be straight to the
Front like black peeps
Way back riding on the bus, exactly
I take it to the time when the music happy
And hair was permed out, nobody was nappy
Now niggas is turned out, and nobody’s crappy
You know what the turf ‘bout
Ain’t fuckin’ with athletes
I’m fuckin’ with real made
Men who deal ‘caine
Them squares in the circle better
Holler at Mills Lane
Your flow is a real shame
I kick it like Liu Kang
I separate the men from the im-mortal
The coke child with the ill profile that’s
So wild when it goes down
Yeah, man that’s what the
Fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout, my nigga
Ay, fuck wit’ your boy real quick
Though, on some other shit, though
You fuckin’ with the rhyme constructor
Break loop maestro
Master of the ceremony with the right tone
Voicebox melt over drums like provolone
Only nigga sittin’ at the table with Corleone
Shawn stacks, methamphetamine beyond crack
If I ain’t on my job
Then what you call that?
Anthropologist, diggin’ up facts
Give me seven days
Bet I could resurrect phat
Relax, let a pro do it
Before XXL, I was show and provin’
Came like a bat out of a
Hell with my whole unit
No way around it, nigga
You gotta go through us
Me and B to the R hard to kill, Steven Seagal
I breeze through these bars like
I’m breaking out the box, huh
Either quit or reinvent your style
This is dedicated to the one-dimensional
It’s the F, respect
I’m too deep
Don’t ever underestimate how loud
The truth speak
The black sheep waving in the
Air the black heat
Making niggas run it like track meets
My voice sound crazy on the snare, that beat
My hat be straight to the
Front like black peeps
Way back riding on the bus, exactly
I take it to the time when the music happy
And hair was permed out, nobody was nappy
Now niggas is turned out, and nobody’s crappy
You know what the turf ‘bout
Ain’t fuckin’ with athletes
I’m fuckin’ with real made
Men who deal ‘caine
Them squares in the circle better
Holler at Mills Lane
Your flow is a real shame
I kick it like Liu Kang
I separate the men from the im-mortal
The coke child with the ill profile that’s
So wild when it goes down
Yeah, man that’s what the
Fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout, my nigga
Ay, fuck wit’ your boy real quick
Though, on some other shit, though
You fuckin’ with the rhyme constructor
Break loop maestro
Master of the ceremony with the right tone
Voicebox melt over drums like provolone
Only nigga sittin’ at the table with Corleone
Shawn stacks, methamphetamine beyond crack
If I ain’t on my job
Then what you call that?
Anthropologist, diggin’ up facts
Give me seven days
Bet I could resurrect phat
Relax, let a pro do it
Before XXL, I was show and provin’
Came like a bat out of a
Hell with my whole unit
No way around it, nigga
You gotta go through us
Me and B to the R hard to kill, Steven Seagal
I breeze through these bars like
I’m breaking out the box, huh
Either quit or reinvent your style
This is dedicated to the one-dimensional
It’s the F, respect