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"Swod"
"Swod"
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"Swod"
"Swod"
название:
автор:
жанры: ambient, electronic, piano
альбомы: Gehen
Intro
автор:
Swod
жанры: ambient, electronic, piano
альбомы: Gehen
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 4.9 / 946 просмотров
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Intro One: (not included on 7") When I was little... my father was famous. He was the greatest sam-urai in the empire; and he was the Shogun's decapitator. He cut off the heads of a hundred and thirty-one lords. It was a bad time for the empire. The Shogun just stayed inside his castle -- and he never came out. People said his brain was infected by DEVILS. My father would come home -- he would forget about the killings. He wasn't scared of the Shogun, but the Shogun was scared of him. Maybe that was the problem. Then, one night... the Shogun sent his ninja spies to our house. They were supposed to kill my father... but they didn't. *woman screams* That was the night everything changed *voice fades* Intro Two: RZA See, sometimes... You gotta flash em back See niggaz don't know where this shit started Y'all know where it came from I'm sayin we gonna take y'all back to the swords We bounce, yo Chorus: RZA, GZA When the MC's came, to live our their name And to perform (forrrrm) Some had, to snort cocaine (caiiinnne) to act insane (sannne) with before Pete Rock-ed it on, now gone that the mental plane (plaaanne) to spark the brain (brainnn) with the building to be born Yo RZA flip the track with the what to guy Check em check chicka icka etta UHH Verse One: Fake niggaz get blitzed and mic bites I swing swords and cut clowns Shit is too swift to bite you record and write it down I flow like the blood on a murder scene, like a syringe on some loud howl shit, to insert a fiend But it was yo ock, the shop stolen heart Catch a swollen heart from not rollin smart I put mad pressure, on phony wack rhymes that get hurt Shit's played, like zodiac signs on sweatshirt That's minimum, and feminine like sandals My minimum table stacks a verse on a gamble Energy is felt once the cards are dealt With the impact of roundhouse kicks from black belts that attack, the mic-fones like cyclones or typhoon I represent from midnight to high noon I don't waste ink, nigga I think I drop megaton BOMBS more faster than you blink Cause rhyme thoughts travel at a tremendous speed Clouds of smoke, of natural blends of weed Only under one circumstance is if I'm blunted Turn that shit up, my clan in da front want it Chorus Verse Two: I'm on a Mission, that niggaz say is Impossible But when I swing my swords they all choppable I be the body dropper, the heartbeat stopper Child educator, plus head amputator Cause niggaz styles are old like Mark 5 sneakers Lyrics are weak, like clock radio speakers Don't even stop in my station and attack while your plan failed, hit the rail, like Amtrak What the fuck for? Down by law, I make law I be justice, I sentence that ass two to four round the clock, that state pen time check it With the pens I be stickin but you can't stick to crime Came through with the Wu, slid off on the DL I'm low-key like seashells, I rock these bells Now come aboard, it's Medina bound Into the chamber, and it's a whole different sound It's a wide entrance, small exit like a funnel So deep it's picked up on radios in tunnels Niggaz are fascinated how the shit begin Get vaccinated, my logo is branded in your skin Chorus
Это интересно:Двое совершенно разных людей, Оливер Доэрель (Oliver Doerell) и Стефан Ворман (Stephan Wоhrmann), объединили свой талант в один бесконечный поток музыкальной фантазии. Казалось бы совершенно не пересекающиеся взгляды на музыку вдруг дали потрясающий результат: переплетение классического пианино (никаких синтезаторов – только настоящий рояль! – гласит райдер SWOD) и мягкой бас-гитары, в сочетании со... продолжение
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