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fishermen - boxguts lyrics

[mike2twenty]

i’m in a full 4 by 4 foot planet where i’m gigantic
not much for my own, in deep sp-ce touching your dome
keep sp-ce i need shoulder room to be home
atmosphere’s cold in degree situation pr-ne to gravity
i bend time sp-ce to fill the black hole cavity
big bang theory to me? holding the matter freeze
my mom must’ve been f-cked by alien anatomy
and that’s why my paps didn’t know how to play daddy
schools is anarchy, i learned from brooklyn academy
everywhere i wear my degree
i’m proud of the badge you see
my last cd overwrite you like graffiti
poster piece, the poster child for the most at ease
probably gangster, probably thug, proud gangster
i don’t see myself and all these problems ain’t my nature

[boxguts]

man i ain’t bragging, i’m just rapping
so i’m kicking back laughing, it gets ’em so mad at me

“f-ck out there man. give ’em a face looking like scabs on a meth head.”

i shot out in ’82 been rapping since the 90’s
stay strapped on tracks, attack with rapid fire rhyming
lines pack n clap the iron, my yap could trap a lion
you in the trap, who buying?
i spit them facts, you lying
i’ll get the daggers flying, and rip yer jacket’s lining
i look at them wack kids smiling and want to bash their minds in
yo you strapped for cash man? that’s exactly why i’m styling
try stacking up a couple racks and climbing
you still popping them tags and racking trash designers
while i’m smashing n grinding
gapping a fat v-g-n- laid back on mats reclining
n awaken to breaking your faces
n backs with bats and axes
cause the guts is nutso and happy to spaz violence
no new acts could match or p-ss my labs ridiculous climates
little big man, lit match, you g-ssed, i will get at you firing
my clan’s box reb, b.a.g.s, n the cl-ssic virus
shout out to sebrox, ccr, matt, and iapetus
fans and b-tches thick -sses clap at us
don’t bust no caps at us
but glad as f-ck, cats stay mad at us just cause i know we thrash
and i’m a keep smashing til i reach splashing guts

man i ain’t bragging, i’m just rapping
so i’m kicking back laughing, it gets ’em so mad at me

“how the f-ck you gonna front on blunt forced trauma man? yokes on the beat. kane & hash with the juice.”

- boxguts lyrics

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