Erfahre mehr über die Themen, die Geschichte und die Gefühle dieses Songs.
Freddie, hey whats wrong with ya? | Oh no, gas! | Behold, the Armored One!
Freddie, hey whats wrong with ya? Oh no, gas! Behold, the Armored One! A grown ass man, mind from a trash can And he kept his rhymes as aligned as a Tascam Whoosh! Like a flash bang crash the Shazam Van Made it with the stashed cash, and his black ash hand Bring on the last man standing, he can hang Did the Shang-A-Lang then caught him, Ka-Bang! Drone flown pass, blam, ping on the dash cam Known as a king who do rings on a mass scam Overthrow a vast plan, shown a unmask fam' Rock it like a sun's splash jam She had the color, came first place on the can-can band stand Face like Ann Landers, ask my man man-man Bitter than a batch of tan bran from Pakistan Don't get smacked with the practice hand Not one to grand stand, get it on a low-low gram Ampersand handstand gas can For every super menace there seems to be, a super hero! To rise in fearless challenge I'm in the mosh pit, wilding with goth chicks Fire, and desire, call it water for chocolate The spark in the darkness, marvelous hard shit Bump you off like a small part in a mob flick Arson artist, tough customer to bargain with No discussion, no argument No trust, no partnership Respect, get me 'spect but the rest get hardship My bars get, funky like a playoff armpit You living in your mom's crib, driving your broad's whip I'm on it, strong grip holding my fork with I'm on it, strong piff, floating my thoughts with Nah I ain't feeling what y'all spit All of 'em talk shit, call a coroner for this corpses Warriors I walk with, all in the conflict Live from the battlefield swords, and horses Seconds later, the villain was in the cockpit Break out the fine china, tired of dining on a garbage rhymer Quick on the draw like an art designer Filthy like a carpet miner, masked men not from comic con I'm hungry like Olajuwon, playing through Ramadan Phenomenon, one stun gun for the unsung Run run, 'fore I come undone and eat her lung lung Um um, stuck in '95 like Rust Cohle, bust souls Punch sneaker heads through their gum soles Holding 'em, and folding 'em a tough soul controlling them Emo rappers cry along like there's no Rust-Oleum The flow is fire dog, no dalmatian, no salvation Shall take place, this Czar with the Metal Face Rebel based, mayday mayday I'm out for that JJ Abram style pay day I catch deer on foot, snatch eagles mid flight Crashing through your skylight with Scott Summers eyesight Easy Scott baby, don't lose control Gotta' focus all my power, into one tiny beam Hold steady, steady If I can't blast through, I'll burn through!
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