- 歌詞
- 專輯列表
A State of Mind
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Splice the Mainbrace
x2
Crown Yard - return of the ones, stir in the drums,
there's murmurs and there's hums that we're serving up the funk.
Crown Yard - the might of the bass, the mics and the crates,
the brightest of days and now we're splicing up the mainbrace.
First off, what it do y'all?
May I invite you to the groove as the crew ball?
Yo, play me the through ball,
I'ma dribble it a bit and hit it back to ya.
And we answer the true call - i - n - g,
keep advancing the jams with the new drawl.
On a quest for the best spiritual home,
fly flows and the lyrical poems.
Bringing more raw elements, suited and brewed, it's the hooligan gentlemen
in the Zen Den blending with focus to cold deliver the dopest
known, home-grown, flown poems that inspire hope,
with the notion of knowing the Yard is approaching, now homie...
Crack that rum, pack that blunt, clap that drum, mack that hun,
and we're known for dropping them bombs like yanks on Afghan slums or Baghdad, son.
Steadily on the hunt, heavily crunk, machetes at the ready and the heavenly skunk.
Grooves roll like a rickshaw, Fade, Green, FP, 3D like Pixar.
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Gotta get that elixir with a little bit of funk and a mixer,
thump from the kick - you jump and twist up, wine and a grind. It's been a long time,
the world's gone mad and committing more crime behind the scenes, bullshitting online.
Find your dream and live it in time. Your mind is free, so shine...
x2
Time warp: open the door, find it's 1974.
Me and the crew, papes and the draw, Franky Fourwheels in a chase with the law,
Fade with the hordes of broads, waistcoat-collar combo, partay at the condominium,
plenty of rum, and i spawn mo' rhythm on a drum than a don on a bongo.
And we're known to keep it Gonzo, leave a week soundboy's mother mourning like Alonzo.
Farm flows, supply the troops, unified by iller vibes and loops.
It's for the deaf, dumb, blind and the youths. A to the S of Mind in the groove.
Lime and the juice intertwined with the roots of iboga to show that it's time for the truth.
Drum pan sound get lain to waste, we roll through insanely blazed,
mad unfazed with the haze in the shade, crates for days in the data base.
Never stray from the way, anything test: at best lay slain in the wake.
We're taking the cake, bass and the breaks, now wake'n'bake and play that...
x2
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