Lapping The Sun

from by Ghettosocks

/

lyrics

Big Socks on the set. Break your cameras out. Words are sexy but I never took the glamorous route. I brought beaucoup bouquets of bombs to drop on 'em, comin' in so many colors kids say I jock autumn. Move swift, lappin' the sun and use gifts, clippin' overgrown egos; leave opponents useless. Cats are fabricating fabulous, see me scatter ashes, tabulate the abacus and leave 'em flabbergasted. Advanced lyrical rain-dance. Man of the house stays tecked-out, still wearin' the same pants. Strange lands, travel the globe with veined hands and stop the spinning with fingertips like fate plans. Alpha what? Align astrological signs. Swap symbols in the temple tryin' to follow the mind. Standing out by taking the road that's less travelled, unravelling the code of the soul and bless samples. Channelling the cold of the poles and press mantles, chosen for the hold of the throne; set examples. Prone to blow spots and restore lost faith in the gods, save the applause 'til I'm done blazin' these frauds. I made a cause of bringing flavor to jaws- taste it and pause, patience of the ancients when I'm lacin' these bars. Praise Allah 'cause I'm stayin' involved until the time the mind-frames of the basic evolve- and the heat don't know me- I'm too cold, shatter the track like glass masters- origami two-fold. Slow ducks catch orange pistols. Fuck a next level- get a smack from a warp whistle.

I come from a planet where the dominant inhabitants panic and plant pieces of metal in the inanimate. DNA strands are spliced in cryo-cabinets; part primate, part god- rock banana clips. Television: learn to read and spell it with 'em, mental prison expelling wisdom while I excel on rhythms- and I ain't trying to save the day- I'm playing keep-away with your brain in a field of razor-blades. Don't trip, secret opponents get blown lids and I'm proposing that foes who oppose get domes bit. I mind my own biz watching time-zones shift, spittin' poems that are prone to leave clone's bones stripped. ~ Heads buried deep in the basement nodding to the boom-bap 'cause they agree with the statement. Cheap labour on unable labels needing replacement ain't hype- bite the curb like you're eatin' the pavement- and proving the existence of god isn't that hard when mathematics equate and translate the visions of art and vice-versa. My vice is to write verses that might hurt your feelings twice and entice murder. Parallel to nothin'- make your comprehension malfunction- so keep coordinates tucked in. Don't rush in when I'm bustin- all spontaneous, that's you tastin' flames while combustin'.

credits

from Get Some Friends, released November 15, 2006
Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks

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about

Ghettosocks Halifax, Nova Scotia

Noted as one of the top rappers in Canada (The CBC’s Top 25 Greatest Canadian Rappers Ever), Ghettosocks is a JUNO Award nominated Hip Hop Producer and MC born in Ottawa and living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.

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