Gorilla Militia Lyrics - Flying Colours - Bliss N Eso

Aw yeah, just gettin' warmed up in here 

I'mma lay it down like this, yo 

We didn't rush it 

Kick back and bubbled slow 

Didn't suck dick 

Hit gas and rumbled roads 

Now, can you hear this 

Magic grumble grow 

We move like the drums 

Tic-tac and bumped a toe 

Spit facts with swift raps 

Untouchable with syntax 

To bitchslap a slumber 

With impact to hit past a Hubble probe 

Spin back to fit massive summer shows 

(One, two, three, four...) 

Ill tunes, trip acid undertones 

Fill rooms That sit past the country's coast 

What if after this batch the bubble blows 

Lord knows where the chit-chat 

And mumbles stowed 

Thrust in the ringmaster's thunder dome 

Stiff rack With big cats with wonder dough 

But through all the mish-mash 

I wonder, bro 

With that shit 

I predict tragic troubles so 

I bring it back 

To this patch and drummers know 

Make peace to whiplash 

Up under his dome 

And pitch black with knick-knacks 

I fumble flow to fit tracks 

And this cracks the puzzle's code 

And in fact since slick chaps 

Have bummed me clothes 

We're trailblazin' a lit path by jungle's glow 

So with a spliff packed with crumbled dro 

I sit back in the bliss bachelor's bungalow 

Direct from the shit shack 

At lover's grove 

I sit back with a six-pack and punch a code 

'Cause this lad will 

Bring back a bucket-load 

with world Thick hash 

And zigzags on buffaloes 

I twist raps, I flip raps, you f**kin' know 

So kick back, big Macka's comin' home 

No rich rags, I kick back 

So it's touch and go 

(One, two, three, four...) 

So splish splash, click clack 

Let's bust a flow 

(Aw yeah...) 

Yo, when I start to get busy 

I'm off from sin city 

There's no turning back 

Once Mackas on the track 

I'm like Jack Frost 

With a heat wave of new shit 

(One, two, three, four...) 

So back off as I reclaim this music 

Yo, i'mma tell it how it is 

This is b.e.i. and I ain't 

Sellin' out for shit, so 

Now you know who 

Spits the raw sound 

And taught these kids 

How to kick the door down 

Hours in the air, run for cover 

This world loves hatin' 

As the young may suffer 

It's like there's a 

Huge hunt for butter 

But, funny thing is we 

All try to hunt for cover 

(One, two, three, four... 

Crank this bitch! It's bne... Bne...)