Blue In The Face

from by Angry Sons

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about

We just don't have the patience...

lyrics

metaphist:
my barbaric endeavor's got your crew disbanding in terror like animated characters similar to Hanna Barbara's // you standin' and starin' while my ammunition is blarin' at optimal angles like a Tetragrammaton Cleric // take a moment to absorb the impact, meanwhile my bullet time rhymes seek the next track to record // be advised if you play us ten times or more, we'll fill your CD changer like a high score list // morbid torturous methods expected only from the most gorish // the likes of Orcish forces torchin' forests, walking through spells of tree-huggin' elves like it's borin' // we ain't even half way to the chorus and I'm already hearin' voices before the adlibs got recorded to tack // trying to blackmail my grey matter with white lies disguised as full color facts (fuck that!) // I got a golden eye for the fakers poppin' off with no pause like a Moonraker // please take a second to check your behavior before I put your whole process on blast like Sega // in this pre-programmed emcee matrix I'm the sequel comin' to serve ya if your data's too basic // high frequencies cut like razors, mids destroyed like kicks to the waist, and subs get bossed like Vega // cats think they're hard but they're soft, frontin' like they down for mother Russia totin' the Kalashnikov // but when I rusn-n-attack with a blade in the back, you'd think I dropped the entire block on you like Pajitnov // we gettin' dropped off in the helicopter stocked with more guns than the ones Contra gots // do not care if you cock-diesel like Juggernaut, reduce your chance to dance around the spreadshot

chorus (both):
angry sons ain't the ones with the patience, we don't take shit, slappin' up the game like a pimp till it's faceless // pushin' up rhymes like a weight lift, angry sons, and we spittin' until we blue in the faces

psychosis:
trained in the Hayabusa villiage, I'm killin' ya whole clan // I'm like Master Chief, an army of one man // I'll no-scope snipe you in a gun-kata stance // and finish it like Oro and do this with one hand // I don't give a fuck, I crush cats like Guts Man // if you were a robot master you'd be Soft-as-fuck Man // it's disgusting how I slay foes // my fatality's sorta like Stryker and Kano's // I'll bust you in the head and make sure it doesn't kill you // pour out ya brains inside a cup and fuckin' spill you // rip out ya eyes with my hands after I lift you // shove em' up your ass so you can see the shit you been through // I'm like Goro when I rip you // massacre like Lord Raptor, capture souls and play a riff too // I don't have to hunt, kills are too easy // try to duck from a gun when it's aimed at the TV // I'm bringin' down ya 30 lives (how many rest?) none // the way you act on the last makes it the best one // you wanna roll out cuz you're scared to fall // you're like Samus in a ball when it's time to brawl // I run through crews like Kabal, got some serious balls // I'll whoop your ass in a pink Gi just for the lols // I'm fucked up and look like I'm on a drug binge // move by rollin' on the ground like Bosconovitch // look like Voldo with the straps minus the thong on my shit // and switch to mantis mode when I approach a chick // convos lead to "I'm a doctor, trust me" // "I just wear this paper bag so I can hide the ugly" // I make mad world footage, I always tape my kills // there's nothing good to watch, THIS show? gives me chills // everything is dead // my face palm's so deep that my fingers are stickin' out the back of my head

chorus repeat

chosis: angry sons crashin' castles, we some sinister assholes // gettin' past without crackin' evil residents' passcodes // fuck the puzzles, you thought we've been had, yo? // epically paint past anything in our path though

meta: epically take fools on a magical crash course // the color's blue and black from Florida sea shores // mixed with swamp gas from the Everglades // so the mana casts some sort of fucking sea shark phantom

chosis: stand up to my stand, it's a razor handyman // my puppets cut throats, chops hams and slits hands // switch blades in switch-stance (which way?) It's swift, man // quick like a fuckin' bitch slap from Ip Man

meta: quick like the sand in Pitfall // it's all traps and fake paths, you can't land // Indiana couldn't escape it, my temple is non-visual, plus mythical // just ask Olmec what you gettin' into

chosis: I'm the elder of the elder gods, taught cats to bring back // all sorts of sick storms, spirals and zig-zags // hail, lava, lightning, made the gods of A-class // Raiden dreamt of electric sheep when I taught my rain class

meta: I'm brainstormin' so hard in the lab sweat steams off my forehead into clouds and effects the forecast // you can ask Storm, the Saturday mornin' forecast is iron // droppin' anvils, quality animation like a pilot episode // you know my turtles are ninja-like

chosis: my toads are the battle-type
meta: my sharks live the street life
chosis: my mice are ride-or-die, Orion can't hold back these guys // They anxious to release the chucks of heat, that's how they be, aiight?

meta: you're afraid to play hard
chosis: that's why you play easy
meta: difficulty settings reveal the true weaklings
chosis: I am immortal
meta: you cannot defeat me
both: even with a Game Genie, you can't beat me

credits

from Minus World, released August 5, 2013

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Angry Sons Orlando, Florida

metaphist and Psychosis Abstrakt air it out.

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