Artificial Flavor Soul Intent
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Artificial Flavor" by Soul Intent. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1: Proof]
Who started the mimic? Wack
The gimmick, wack
Jimmy cracked corn wraps, give ‘em smacks
Perhaps the copycat had no better turns
When it came to racial slurs, he lost his sense of balance
The lame brain put more into the game
With this other side of vocals and the boost of fame
And I’ll drop something proper
By slammin’ the hammer down like Judge Wapner
And after this, I could be tryin' to face it
Throwin’ the blows heavy, so if you’re Chevy, don’t chase me
Where’s your motivation, taking up your spare time
Tell everyone, "Air time." don’t you think you know the station?
So why take it upon myself to give the listeners [?]
So grab your boots to amplify your parachute
To rock bottom, let the real rappers step off you
Slide to stay inside, here comes the main course
[Verse 2: Chaos Kid]
Hurrah, hurrah, ha, haha, ha
Good God, here’s the top of the blah, blah, blah
Hey, I'm 'bout to go with the tag, [?]
Chaos Kid is [?]
It's automatic, it's some of that stuff that makes you stop and drop and tort
‘Cause you haven’t heard it bop before
It’s probably because I have a different kind of outlook
That creates a totally different type of output
So stay put your crook, and state the book
Are we gonna become the [?], 'cause now the real fame is avaliable
And so many rappers are giving credit when they sound pathetic
[?] makes you wanna go
But there’ll be none of that repetition here
Looks who's [about to cry?] your uncle, thus the [?] makes the business clear
At the dinner [?] did you wanna order a [?]
You better seek a savior
Or learn to run fast, yeah
Who started the mimic? Wack
The gimmick, wack
Jimmy cracked corn wraps, give ‘em smacks
Perhaps the copycat had no better turns
When it came to racial slurs, he lost his sense of balance
The lame brain put more into the game
With this other side of vocals and the boost of fame
And I’ll drop something proper
By slammin’ the hammer down like Judge Wapner
And after this, I could be tryin' to face it
Throwin’ the blows heavy, so if you’re Chevy, don’t chase me
Where’s your motivation, taking up your spare time
Tell everyone, "Air time." don’t you think you know the station?
So why take it upon myself to give the listeners [?]
So grab your boots to amplify your parachute
To rock bottom, let the real rappers step off you
Slide to stay inside, here comes the main course
[Verse 2: Chaos Kid]
Hurrah, hurrah, ha, haha, ha
Good God, here’s the top of the blah, blah, blah
Hey, I'm 'bout to go with the tag, [?]
Chaos Kid is [?]
It's automatic, it's some of that stuff that makes you stop and drop and tort
‘Cause you haven’t heard it bop before
It’s probably because I have a different kind of outlook
That creates a totally different type of output
So stay put your crook, and state the book
Are we gonna become the [?], 'cause now the real fame is avaliable
And so many rappers are giving credit when they sound pathetic
[?] makes you wanna go
But there’ll be none of that repetition here
Looks who's [about to cry?] your uncle, thus the [?] makes the business clear
At the dinner [?] did you wanna order a [?]
You better seek a savior
Or learn to run fast, yeah
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