Текст песни Gold Rush (Forty Psychic Frames) с переводом

SCURVY D:

Pack a bowl of weed, yo

Pack it up for me

Pack it up for Forty Frames, it’s our density

Carolina Playas with hella fucking cheese

Get a peep of it when you get a peep of deez…

Nuts!

Kick it on the mic bitch

Kick it on the ‘net

One kick from 40PF will break your neck Chet

Got to check the roster to see who’s up on deck

Guaranteed, yo, to make you fucking sweat

Three, five, all seven when we rhyme

Like Buddha so sublime, we’ll elevate your mind

Primed Design, the best you’ll ever find

It’ll get your mind right

Like you was puffing on some kine

FORREST:

And you know this, point poignant like a forgotten kiss

Lingering and visceral

This art is a transcendental flow

Like Cyrano de Bergerac, got lines that you lack

Pump up the track, deliver rhyme with a rap attack

All my homies are allied and they got my back

Even distances luna to sol, no toll to uphold

Coal into diamond and we like Midas turning dust into gold

It’s foretold, we the Psychic Frames and we multiply forty fold

Picking up shots, we hot

Rock

Always aiming to break the mold

WYATT:

Showered in the blood of the ghost of the king

Clothes drying on the clothes line now here the ring of the church

Bell DING

Corpses' buzzing in a business of flies they were the cousins

Brothers, uncles, and aunts who breathed in their last breath

Their skins melted off their bone, «Death To The Queen» posters

Flown

Now hanging in tatters from brown telephone poles

Vitreous humor jelly spread across the bellies

Of the bodies been dragged for miles. Get ready

For that last gust of wind to steadily blast the flames forward

And melt down the town an unending horror

Let’s hope the smoke chokes the throat of the ghost

Of the king

Let’s drink, let’s sing, let’s set fire to this whole fucking thing

There’s no telling what else we’ve come to bring

ANTHONY:

I ain’t a bad person, that’s just how y’all make me feel

You be pressing the wrong buttons and you wind up getting killed

Hang up the mic, tie the cord around my neck, kick the stool and

Watch my feet kind of jiggle around for a bit

Not cool?, I’m sorry. I’ll stay on topic of this «thug shit»

This one’s for the fans and for the mother fuckers who love it:

«Holla back now, beeya beeya, pussy, titties, pussy, bitch.»

Cut that shit up, use it for a club banger remix, I’m leaving

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