8000 RPMs (feat. Brandon Musser)
Every single time I hear this track cat it makes my eyes swell
So I turn back and ask for a scratch from Trey Qel
Oh I manage that magic hot flow
If you think yours matches, my man, it's not so
And you don't know I just transformed the front row
Into psychos on pogo sticks at gun shows
Not a stunt show, half booty naked like Squanto
But with bobo dreads draped on my burgundy poncho
It sort of makes an ordinary ninja like me
Look like an Oakland Raider runningback tackling geeks
Baby I'm hectic from the helmet to the spikes on my feet
If interested man I'll bless it with a mic and a beat
RedCloud is hyper on speed, the crowd will like it indeed
You'll jump around like Everlast did in the stifling heat
If you're impressed with the direction that I rock and compete
Then chuck your fists up in the sky because the job is complete
Hook:
8000 RPMs is redline
Your Chevy and your Ford V8s can't touch mine
4 banging and hanging with 10 second time
Bring it in the form of a rhyme
It's redline
We're the Boondock Saints, Jake it ain't no joke
Cause it's cool and calm, come in a room full of smoke
Like a broken tapedeck in an ancient basement
And the blaze is raging but the barricade's broke
I never serenaded every lady I approach
I'm just soaking up the mocha, sipping cocoa to the throat
Cappuccino IV is mighty kind yo when it's cold
Feeling older than Hoboken hobos covered in a cloak
I'm smothering the southern bay
Mother to other ways
Blasting rays like an ambassador from outer space
Hovering to cover days
Brother of the ricochet
Crenshaw chainsaw massacre, I'm leatherface
Later days, feather-ended pen, sever wicked ways
Kick it like a cricket's legs chirping in a little cage
TicketMaster tickets, time is ticking till I hit the stage
Wiggling the middle, giving praises through the nickel plate
Hook
This one goes out to L ScatterBrain
And DJ Mino 92 and the gang
Original redlining, shining bright in fact
My brethren SP, all the numerous cats
Roto Rooter, my motor scooter is parked outside of Hooters
If my lady finds out there is no doubt I'm getting neutered
It suits me well and super, my crew's like superhumans
Confused with Mighty Morphin's, the truth we are VR Troopers
I might cold cock these country sucker chumps with an uppercut
And roughing up these diamond-studded busters till they pucker up
I'm tough enough to run you over with a pick-up truck
And scrape you off the pavement with a shovel, brother listen up
This is for the Clan, for the Tribe, for the Crew
This is for the Clique, for the Mob, for the Youth
This is for the red, for the white and the blue
This is for the who, the who? The True
So I turn back and ask for a scratch from Trey Qel
Oh I manage that magic hot flow
If you think yours matches, my man, it's not so
And you don't know I just transformed the front row
Into psychos on pogo sticks at gun shows
Not a stunt show, half booty naked like Squanto
But with bobo dreads draped on my burgundy poncho
It sort of makes an ordinary ninja like me
Look like an Oakland Raider runningback tackling geeks
Baby I'm hectic from the helmet to the spikes on my feet
If interested man I'll bless it with a mic and a beat
RedCloud is hyper on speed, the crowd will like it indeed
You'll jump around like Everlast did in the stifling heat
If you're impressed with the direction that I rock and compete
Then chuck your fists up in the sky because the job is complete
Hook:
8000 RPMs is redline
Your Chevy and your Ford V8s can't touch mine
4 banging and hanging with 10 second time
Bring it in the form of a rhyme
It's redline
We're the Boondock Saints, Jake it ain't no joke
Cause it's cool and calm, come in a room full of smoke
Like a broken tapedeck in an ancient basement
And the blaze is raging but the barricade's broke
I never serenaded every lady I approach
I'm just soaking up the mocha, sipping cocoa to the throat
Cappuccino IV is mighty kind yo when it's cold
Feeling older than Hoboken hobos covered in a cloak
I'm smothering the southern bay
Mother to other ways
Blasting rays like an ambassador from outer space
Hovering to cover days
Brother of the ricochet
Crenshaw chainsaw massacre, I'm leatherface
Later days, feather-ended pen, sever wicked ways
Kick it like a cricket's legs chirping in a little cage
TicketMaster tickets, time is ticking till I hit the stage
Wiggling the middle, giving praises through the nickel plate
Hook
This one goes out to L ScatterBrain
And DJ Mino 92 and the gang
Original redlining, shining bright in fact
My brethren SP, all the numerous cats
Roto Rooter, my motor scooter is parked outside of Hooters
If my lady finds out there is no doubt I'm getting neutered
It suits me well and super, my crew's like superhumans
Confused with Mighty Morphin's, the truth we are VR Troopers
I might cold cock these country sucker chumps with an uppercut
And roughing up these diamond-studded busters till they pucker up
I'm tough enough to run you over with a pick-up truck
And scrape you off the pavement with a shovel, brother listen up
This is for the Clan, for the Tribe, for the Crew
This is for the Clique, for the Mob, for the Youth
This is for the red, for the white and the blue
This is for the who, the who? The True
Credits
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