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Pro Tool Robots Lyrics
Myka 9:
I started running up in hips (hop)
When no other gratification grips like pops
As she rides on tops
I slide up in MPC-3000 slots
My double-density dicks
Behind the popper-stoppers emcees think they can rock (nope)
You think not pop (right)
I think so, stop (true)
Cyclopes tunnel vision, [my clops(?)] erects Pro-Tool robots
Flying faders, just let me fuck with the music and y'all stay stuck with the haters
While I remain sucka free!
A musician is a true player [puppedly(?)] up to kiss the mouthpiece
Outreach, touch my instrument, deep throat my reed
Plant my musical seed to breed, pure in the savage beast
On the average streets, pornographic heat
This nigga Myka on the mic, laugh at defeat
Dyslexic math, anorexic wrath
Decrepitly, intrepidly, you heavily pushing quick to an exit path
From the virus, Osiris, sear us
High me on iris, I'm in raw, beyond mere common law
Why kneel on computer stool? Is Peter Norton your highness?
Facilitating your utilities
The sinus, dry-mucus membranes of a black hacker
Wannabe keyboard cracker
Looking for process speed
Surfing junk food snacker
Unearthing multidimensional possibilities
I'm well respected and stand stern while you sing more fowler than Howard Hewlett-Packard
IBM Mr. Macintosh
A build power, a little coward we gonna do it, I'm a hardware jacker
Apple hats, still flossin' Wallabees and cyber projects
He's a software wacker
I trash programs moved by these disk smugglers under BVDs
They even keister DVDs
It's all in the risk of a nonstop juggler
Even within this computer era black man is still a struggler
We all have are struggles and personal troubles, Hubble
Telescopical, topical, tropical
Optical bubbles get burst
Every frame I put my knowledge first in this game and thirst
My throat feels rather parched
Arched doorways of my temple stiff as starch
Stained glass window pane shades like for spectroscopy
I'll march in side-by-side separation [be]for thy kingdom [be]comes a monarch
And the Arc of the Covenant blast
Pass all class for me
I don't give a fuck about bitches passin' me
Gas me in chambers, chastity, famous as majesty
Just to be trusted for tragedy
Wack-ass can be Alaskan pipe-line
Myka 9' loins flipping queens like coins for heads and tails in hell
You settin' up web page, chain letter
Check your email
When no other gratification grips like pops
As she rides on tops
I slide up in MPC-3000 slots
My double-density dicks
Behind the popper-stoppers emcees think they can rock (nope)
You think not pop (right)
I think so, stop (true)
Cyclopes tunnel vision, [my clops(?)] erects Pro-Tool robots
Flying faders, just let me fuck with the music and y'all stay stuck with the haters
While I remain sucka free!
A musician is a true player [puppedly(?)] up to kiss the mouthpiece
Outreach, touch my instrument, deep throat my reed
Plant my musical seed to breed, pure in the savage beast
On the average streets, pornographic heat
This nigga Myka on the mic, laugh at defeat
Dyslexic math, anorexic wrath
Decrepitly, intrepidly, you heavily pushing quick to an exit path
From the virus, Osiris, sear us
High me on iris, I'm in raw, beyond mere common law
Why kneel on computer stool? Is Peter Norton your highness?
Facilitating your utilities
The sinus, dry-mucus membranes of a black hacker
Wannabe keyboard cracker
Looking for process speed
Surfing junk food snacker
Unearthing multidimensional possibilities
I'm well respected and stand stern while you sing more fowler than Howard Hewlett-Packard
IBM Mr. Macintosh
A build power, a little coward we gonna do it, I'm a hardware jacker
Apple hats, still flossin' Wallabees and cyber projects
He's a software wacker
I trash programs moved by these disk smugglers under BVDs
They even keister DVDs
It's all in the risk of a nonstop juggler
Even within this computer era black man is still a struggler
We all have are struggles and personal troubles, Hubble
Telescopical, topical, tropical
Optical bubbles get burst
Every frame I put my knowledge first in this game and thirst
My throat feels rather parched
Arched doorways of my temple stiff as starch
Stained glass window pane shades like for spectroscopy
I'll march in side-by-side separation [be]for thy kingdom [be]comes a monarch
And the Arc of the Covenant blast
Pass all class for me
I don't give a fuck about bitches passin' me
Gas me in chambers, chastity, famous as majesty
Just to be trusted for tragedy
Wack-ass can be Alaskan pipe-line
Myka 9' loins flipping queens like coins for heads and tails in hell
You settin' up web page, chain letter
Check your email
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This is not an instrumental song. These are the lyrics.
Myka 9:
I started running up in hips (hop) When no other gratification grips like pops As she rides on tops I slide up in MPC-3000 slots My double-density dicks Behind the popper-stoppers emcees think they can rock (nope) You think not pop (right) I think so, stop (true) Cyclopes tunnel vision, [my clops(?)] erects Pro-Tool robots Flying faders, just let me fuck with the music and y'all stay stuck with the haters While I remain sucka free! A musician is a true player [puppedly(?)] up to kiss the mouthpiece Outreach, touch my instrument, deep throat my reed Plant my musical seed to breed, pure in the savage beast On the average streets, pornographic heat This nigga Myka on the mic, laugh at defeat Dyslexic math, anorexic wrath Decrepitly, intrepidly, you heavily pushing quick to an exit path From the virus, Osiris, sear us High me on iris, I'm in raw, beyond mere common law Why kneel on computer stool? Is Peter Norton your highness? Facilitating your utilities The sinus, dry-mucus membranes of a black hacker Wannabe keyboard cracker Looking for process speed Surfing junk food snacker Unearthing multidimensional possibilities I'm well respected and stand stern while you sing more fowler than Howard Hewlett-Packard IBM Mr. Macintosh A build power, a little coward we gonna do it, I'm a hardware jacker Apple hats, still flossin' Wallabees and cyber projects He's a software wacker I trash programs moved by these disk smugglers under BVDs They even keister DVDs It's all in the risk of a nonstop juggler Even within this computer era black man is still a struggler We all have are struggles and personal troubles, Hubble Telescopical, topical, tropical Optical bubbles get burst Every frame I put my knowledge first in this game and thirst My throat feels rather parched Arched doorways of my temple stiff as starch Stained glass window pane shades like for spectroscopy I'll march in side-by-side separation [be]for thy kingdom [be]comes a monarch And the Arc of the Covenant blast Pass all class for me I don't give a fuck about bitches passin' me Gas me in chambers, chastity, famous as majesty Just to be trusted for tragedy Wack-ass can be Alaskan pipe-line Myka 9' loins flipping queens like coins for heads and tails in hell You settin' up web page, chain letter Check your email