Aasim - Fly Shit [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro: Aasim]
South Side. Jamaica, Queens area ‘bout to break the sound barrier. What you want, son? [?] give it to you just like this: fly shit

[Hook: Aasim]
Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit
Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with
Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with
London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with

[Verse 1: Aasim]
My rap techs better than black sex each track my rap bless
[?] sets like data cats, the backs from black techs
Attacks complex. Facts whack the brain and so you collapse
And lack breath. I cook on this grill
Ill soul like a black chef, scholastic philosopher
Maneuver well on this rap track, militant opera
D’X de la ghetto, el lyrical perfecto
Got rappers stranded like inmates with no el collecto
Flash Gordon verses merciless, murderous dispersin’ this
Thirstin' this fly nigga with turbulence. Word in this microphone massacre
Menace composition manufacturer, black rhythm rapturer, bloody throat like Dracula

[Hook: Aasim] (x2)
Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit
Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with
Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with
London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with

[Verse 2: Aasim]
Our whole fortress. I seen the god of reason paint portraits
Lyrical forces, four horses horseman offense
Nah, rock star. Black Chucks my crew rock far
Praise all while some screaming, “Allahu Akbar”
My uncle locked in. I try and shine for him, consecutive
Years keep stocking while the blue murderers clock in
Mind state’s like “Wait.” I’m chopping combatants to small size
Voice sharp, cutting eardrums, open all eyes
Sleeping on the individual straight from South Side
Jamaica, Queens side. Emcee high off my word lye
Verbs link to heart attacks, raising hell over tracks
Double-S soldier, look over your shoulder, behind your back
The architect X. I pose more than a threat
Perform on your set. Hip hop—nah, a war vet
Storm the context, the mic’s my sword of iron
Use it like Conan for surviving. You chose to battle against this lion
Roaring, I could go on and on and on and
F-O-F roaming, hit hard like a stone and
Leaving opponents all broke down into components
Kid, quote this the exact way I wrote this, composed this

[Hook: Aasim] (x2)
Keep lacing ‘em with fly shit—my shit
Me and my clique—the niggas I was born with, probably die with
Get high with, write three-dozen live rhymes with
London Iced Tea sipping. Hooptie-driving kids I ride with

[Verse 3: Aasim]
My phonics is economics, my atomic bomb the casualties
I think I was a accident born through acid from batteries
I’ve expressed myself verbally. Since the birth of me
Niggas couldn’t acquire my skills if they had surgery
Literally, I could lyrically start a colony in Italy
Mentally and physically—yo son, niggas is feeling me
If rap was church, I’d be the pastor and the freaking deacon
After I finish speaking, niggas brains’ll be leaking
Competition that want head-on collisions: get a airbag
I chisel through little crews like tanks through troops in Baghdad
Emcees: they got the [bomb?], they got duds. I got studs
Blowing spots when they drop. Take me out? Get off the drugs
From Malibu to the avenue, they blast the tape
Can’t stand rapping after wack rappers ‘cause they be leaving that wack aftertaste
I rhyme fat, girls reach climax from one line that…