Science of the Trife (feat. Slaine & Ill Bill) Lyrics
[Verse 1: Slaine]
It was the time of his life, a capitalist with a communist wife
The Bushes are reptilians and Obama is white
I can feel it in the air, I got some bad karma tonight
Something is wrong, I think my mom is right
I never should have left but quitting is good as death
It had to be written, you cats had to be put in check
I made a lot of moves you dudes wouldn’t get
I walked a lot of places in this world you couldn’t step
I paid dues and made fools out of you fake goons
Seen eight noons straight, I can’t sleep, I ?
I sniff coke from fake spoons, dollar bills, and shaved poon
Tang, headed for the grave soon
I’m just getting iller with my thoughts lately
I would feel depressed if you started to not hate me
I’m paranoid nodding off dreaming of getting shot
Waking up, hopping in the Navi with the Glock
[Verse 2: Ill Bill]
You pushed my button so here comes the nuclear man
This beat’s disgusting, reminds me of a whore with crabs
Came to power in Canarsie, south-east of Marcie
Kamakaze Anunnakis on Kawasakis
Bandana-faced killers, call my chopper Tchotchke
And say if I’m amongst the chosen ones then God’s a Nazi
Haitian earthquakes, Hawaiian tsunamis
Arms dealers buying from Commies
Violence and murder riots surround me
King’s County preaches strength proudly
Think rowdy, when we hit ground zero bro we bend soundwaves
Never doubt, we’re passionate like a Taliban firefight
Cameramen die for the story, what’s the final price of life?
What’s the science of the trife? Why do we exist?
Civilization is brainwashed, society is sick
I’m like a 1985 subway train ride
Get your chain robbed or stage dive, we stay live
[Verse 3: Q-Unique]
In a police chase with drugs and a stolen gun
Like Tiger Woods grab a nine iron and put a hole in one
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Trying to escape the Devil’s deadly flames
But I’m a sex addict for tatted women like Jesse James
I look at the world through broken glass
With holes in you from holding gats
It’s when I’m lonely and smoking grass
If you know me show the cash
Homie I’m holding back, you’ll be folded holding an open gash
Powerful impact boom from the cannon
Catch a slap off the hands of doom from where you’re standing
Weed, crack and we’re soldiers
In Dapper Dan army fatigues with black metal toasters
Fuck how nice you are you one trick pony
A Mickey Rourke wrestler dying sick and lonely
A major sight is you and your rap partner in the cage tonight
Player I made you fight, I’m Dana White
