Difference between revisions of "Cannibal Ox:Iron Galaxy"

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(New page: {{Song| | song = Iron Galaxy | artist = Cannibal Ox | albums = The Cold Vein (2001) }} <lyrics> ''It seems like what he wants is different from...'' ''Yeah tell me about it... It's a col...)
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| song = Iron Galaxy
| song = Iron Galaxy
| artist = Cannibal Ox
| artist = Cannibal Ox
| albums = The Cold Vein (2001)
| album = The Cold Vein (2001)

Revision as of 21:27, 30 June 2007

“Iron Galaxy”
Artist: Cannibal Ox
Albums: [[Cannibal Ox:The Cold Vein (2001) ({{{year}}})|The Cold Vein (2001) ({{{year}}})]]

''It seems like what he wants is different from...''

''Yeah tell me about it...
It's a cold world out there...
Sometimes I think I'm getting a little frosty myself...''

My shell, mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is, animal found toast
My shell, mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is, animal found toast
My shell, mechanical found ghost
But my ghetto is, animal found toast
Animal found toast
But my ghetto... animal f-

Life's ill, sometimes life might kill
Vordul Mega, five digits grab mics, mic strike type ill
Is life real? Yo akhi builds
When life feels, like earth don't spin
Whirlwinds might blend
Life's at a stand-still, dangerous cause man kills
And still, cats visualize life ghetto like
Born mind, sometime these cats see life
Street life incomplete light and be like
Imma live life after this
One crime, one line from the Mega-la
Blow spine, everyone
Knows the city's ill, cats kill
Still black man holds nine
Gotta chill, star
Be the light of Shamar
Work hard Shamar C-Cipher-A.L.L.A.H
Adapt bars snatch stars
and detach large channels
But our bar's handle might break mics
Vordul Megala the cannibal ate mics
Strive, live live, fuck five, I want a hundred and eight mics

''Son, yo son did you see that kid yo?
Yo, yo, Chill out man, chill out.
Yo son did you, yo son he pulled it out...''

"just keep your eyes-"

Five digits cock biddy nine mili
One floor shine silly
Spun city one verbs hit milly
Little girls spinnin' curls three sixty
Livin' in in a world shitty
Yo they spun young earth, now shitty
And while 5-0 might shoot black head
Nigga sorry I sold space suit to crack heads
D.T's operate mechanically, po-po in slow-mo
Black kids, locked away
Attic key, plus one fourth pound of smoke flow
While, lock head fabian
Achmed Arabian
Layin' in
Bodeg holdin' drama a.k
Spoke like as-salaam-a-opaque
Chokin' vodka mixed with OJ
Wig splits mad quick
Spinnin' three six oh ways
C4 blew the door nuber eight
Summer fate tank top wit a knot
Number nine said run the place
Took my girl, stereo, CD plus the tape
Yo star, don't wet that
Fuck her face lets stuff the plays
Jet back to santa cruz Californ-i-a
Peace to C-God locked up cat born nine ways
Come home mad soon
Live ill, life things just like little black girl got shot
Damn it hurts when they spun earth filled with knots
Gonna make a difference so we get locked
Caught in the shit and losin' what we got
Come on black E-quals, E-qual, qual

''Do you know that you're one of the few pradator species
that preys even on itself?''

And if there's crack in a basement
Crack heads stand adjacent
Anger displacement
From food stamp arrangements
You were a still born baby
Mother didn't want you, but you were still born
Boy meets world, of course his pops is gone
What you figga?
That chalky outline on the ground is a father figure?
So he steps to the next stencil, that's a hustler
Infested with money and diamond cluster
Lets talk in laymen terms
Rotten apples and big worms
Early birds and poachers
New York is evil at it's core, so those who have more than them
Prepare to be victims
Ate up by vultures, the politicians
In a dog eat dog culture, that'll sick 'em
Lack of mineral, we take it personal
A pigeon can't drop shit if it never flew
Every day is no frills (frills), ancient krills (krills)
Broken 40 bottles and MCs with skills
I rest my head on 115
But miracles only happen on 34th, so I guess life is mean
And death is the median
And purgatory is the mode that we settle in (no doubt)
I've got that Eve's Bayou sense of touch
So I fought to touch every hand of a fan, to read their thoughts
Battered wives (come on), molested children
Roaches on the floor, rats in the ceilin'
Cats walk around New York with two fillin's
One is in the mouth, the other, does the killin'
I'm Vast Air, Kramer, top billin'

Yo, rest in peace, for me, L