Prime Source
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My mind's in a million places
Reconstructing thousands of conversations
With fading faces I'm tongue tied
Strapped back like knotted laces
Waiting for the day the sanctions on my soul get lifted
Twisted off the high grade, punk, thinking I'm gifted
I'm scared shitless, every next man's a witness to these dark days
My heart is cold for eternity like icy pathways
The crew seems to sense a certain malevolence in my presence
Evidently taken aback by the lack of benevolent sentiments
An ode to this cold-hearted inspiration
Got me chasing piece of paper
I'm hastily wasting precious time constantly blazing
Dissin' pussy rappers that actually think that they're amazing
Rearranging faces in laymans for entertainment
Clocks are read and stopped and proper
Brought to for his Dr Pepper
Making cocky rappers kinda jealous 'cause we rocked it better
People find security in packs that's why they flock together
Chopping Robbing Goodz who never fail to rock a track forever
Yo, me and Drop got to be rocking on Soul J's till our bones ache
And then the beat just stops, no break
But we carry on, with rhymes that carry long
Lines like a marathon, our mind's where the madness from
Standing up strong to the bone breakers, dough takers
And soul rapers that are as dirty as coal rakers
I'd rather be a father at 30 with no paper
Working 9 to 5 for a fiver an hour wager
Not handling funds, they're all noughts
We handling huns and forethoughts to
Stick in our minds like drawls bought
And some rappers might try but they fall short
Miss hitting their raps to the wrong side of the ball court
We slicing 'em down as we see fit
That's usually with brutally rehearsed
Verses so the whole town's in deep shit
We split hairs where I stare with their mouths gaping
In more suspense than is there when the crowd's waiting
The tight rhymes, we're the prime source
The mind force combined with the right force
Be bruising 'em up like fight sports
With no gloves, show no love to tight sorts
Tryna lock us down for the trouble that we might cause
The tight rhymes, we're the prime source
The mind force combined with the right force
Be bruising 'em up like fight sports
With no gloves, show no love to tight sorts
Tryna lock us down for the trouble that we might cause
Equipped to the jaw with more force than 40 warlords
Sicker than all the nat walkers stalking cohorts
Sporting all sorts of emotions fueled by hatred
Burning up on the ends over golden opportunities are wasted
Remember back in the day when it was all good we used to go rave
But now I've become a slave to the pen
And paper just tryna fuckin' make it
Craving for a little bit of success to make it worth it
Spitting fire till the time till I die when I'm finally burning it
Stoppin' these cats, sprayin' in the rap litter
Eagerly the fat spitter, people see me believe that I chat better
With Soul J's the track fitter, plus Drop
To make the average listener realise that the whack must stop
We bust up boys to the side of the road like bus stops
They lack wisdom while we smackin' the rap kingdom
Happily exacting revenge, in fact bringing 'em
A lack of pretence apprehending rappers in England
True say Robbin Goodz be the one significant other
Making older brothers shutter like rubbery blubber
Others it's a wonder that we come this far and stayed sane
Whilst leaving the more heinous of rap crews looking lame
Yo, in the main frame so many rappers are playing games
They should have remained in stains but instead have come for big-ups
And it's a crying shame that their minds are kinda lick-up
Like junkies in chains that's in pain to get their dick up
We're living in strange times ruled by law-makers with strange minds
Where schools are rendered useless and fames claimed by train lines
Most cats fled that bread stopped in its tracks dead
In London raving the youngest brothers are crackheads
We're living each day to break the chains of social slavery
Believing we're individuals whilst the media deems us nameless, see
And that's the reason why they made us mean and ready
To be the very heaviest rappers up on the raving scene
The tight rhymes, we're the prime source
The mind force combined with the right force
Be bruising 'em up like fight sports
With no gloves, show no love to tight sorts
Tryna lock us down for the trouble that we might cause
The tight rhymes, we're the prime source
The mind force combined with the right force
Be bruising 'em up like fight sports
With no gloves, show no love to tight sorts
Tryna lock us down for the trouble that we might cause