Methodical 歌词
| 歌曲 | Methodical |
| 歌手 | Lojique |
| 专辑 | Language Arts |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1: Othello] | |
| My spiral notebook is a tool to compose | |
| The translations of my heart and influence of the soul | |
| My Power Source allows me not to have a typical flow | |
| Innovate, create and reach beyond the typical goals | |
| Following trends have never seemed to be my steelo | |
| Switch it up, three for the money, four for the show | |
| Mad original, and from the time the track begins and ends I'm hoping and praying | |
| That you've been inspired to go higher then the limitations | |
| Of shackles and chains, amazing how change is available | |
| To anyone who makes an honest attempt | |
| Exempt to no man, oh man, I was like, yo man | |
| I find it ironic how all the times I flunked within the book I found the answers | |
| To the problems, now me and the Author is tight | |
| I rock the mic and He writes my rhymes | |
| We make a good team don't you agree | |
| Christ plus Othello equals emcee | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") | |
| [Verse 2: Page One] | |
| These false emcees will do backflips to stack chips, but never stay true to their craft | |
| That's how I separate wheat from the chaff | |
| I bomb like graf, super raw style for the new millennium | |
| Got mad styles on file, but the mind is the Pentium | |
| Processing data, it don't matter who got the phattest click | |
| It all depends upon what you use to measure my status with | |
| And that it's fit to be used, I see through crews who | |
| Only concerned with who's who, not paying dues | |
| But you couldn't walk a mile in my shoes without stumblin | |
| Fumblin, now your whole foundation is crumblin | |
| You tried to salvage, performing mental cryogenics | |
| But defile the mic one time and it's sweet dreams like Annie Lennox | |
| [Verse 3: Othello] | |
| We're putting bits and pieces together like clouds and rainy weather | |
| My finished product makes me wonder if its really real | |
| I'm seeking for a place to rest my head and paint a picture | |
| Peacefully abide in Christ, bright and happy days | |
| Warm colors of hazel sunrays cater to daydreamings and mental replays | |
| Of clear and distinct unforgettables | |
| Accompanied by a few pivotal moments, elements of joy components | |
| Make me see past all my opponents | |
| Home alone in perfect peace, stable and meek | |
| Meditate and daze away when thoughts become complete | |
| Seeking to find and bust divine rhymes and smile with white teeth | |
| I'm in my own little world (say what you do at night) I sleep | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") | |
| [Verse 4: Page One] | |
| We're droppin gems cut with many facets, the passage of time | |
| Can blur the line between the subliminal and sublime | |
| But sometimes I lie awake nights, mentally take flights | |
| Back to the days before greed poisoned hip hop like snakebites | |
| How can I take it back to the essence and still be progressive | |
| How can I dispense this freely and still be possessive | |
| How can I stay meek and humble and still be aggressive | |
| How can I achieve harmony and still be obsessive | |
| These are the types of near-impossible, paradoxical obstacles | |
| That put lesser emcees in mental hospitals | |
| Consider myself a cat that's equal to the task | |
| Dangerous behind the mic, a havoc wreaker to the last | |
| Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast | |
| Express joy or sorrow, but you'd rather wallow in your averageness | |
| Decked in lavish dress, but lyrically can't pass the test | |
| Who laughs the best when this culture dies a tragic death | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now (sample: "I represent through mind, soul and body") |
| Verse 1: Othello | |
| My spiral notebook is a tool to compose | |
| The translations of my heart and influence of the soul | |
| My Power Source allows me not to have a typical flow | |
| Innovate, create and reach beyond the typical goals | |
| Following trends have never seemed to be my steelo | |
| Switch it up, three for the money, four for the show | |
| Mad original, and from the time the track begins and ends I' m hoping and praying | |
| That you' ve been inspired to go higher then the limitations | |
| Of shackles and chains, amazing how change is available | |
| To anyone who makes an honest attempt | |
| Exempt to no man, oh man, I was like, yo man | |
| I find it ironic how all the times I flunked within the book I found the answers | |
| To the problems, now me and the Author is tight | |
| I rock the mic and He writes my rhymes | |
| We make a good team don' t you agree | |
| Christ plus Othello equals emcee | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" | |
| Verse 2: Page One | |
| These false emcees will do backflips to stack chips, but never stay true to their craft | |
| That' s how I separate wheat from the chaff | |
| I bomb like graf, super raw style for the new millennium | |
| Got mad styles on file, but the mind is the Pentium | |
| Processing data, it don' t matter who got the phattest click | |
| It all depends upon what you use to measure my status with | |
| And that it' s fit to be used, I see through crews who | |
| Only concerned with who' s who, not paying dues | |
| But you couldn' t walk a mile in my shoes without stumblin | |
| Fumblin, now your whole foundation is crumblin | |
| You tried to salvage, performing mental cryogenics | |
| But defile the mic one time and it' s sweet dreams like Annie Lennox | |
| Verse 3: Othello | |
| We' re putting bits and pieces together like clouds and rainy weather | |
| My finished product makes me wonder if its really real | |
| I' m seeking for a place to rest my head and paint a picture | |
| Peacefully abide in Christ, bright and happy days | |
| Warm colors of hazel sunrays cater to daydreamings and mental replays | |
| Of clear and distinct unforgettables | |
| Accompanied by a few pivotal moments, elements of joy components | |
| Make me see past all my opponents | |
| Home alone in perfect peace, stable and meek | |
| Meditate and daze away when thoughts become complete | |
| Seeking to find and bust divine rhymes and smile with white teeth | |
| I' m in my own little world say what you do at night I sleep | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" | |
| Verse 4: Page One | |
| We' re droppin gems cut with many facets, the passage of time | |
| Can blur the line between the subliminal and sublime | |
| But sometimes I lie awake nights, mentally take flights | |
| Back to the days before greed poisoned hip hop like snakebites | |
| How can I take it back to the essence and still be progressive | |
| How can I dispense this freely and still be possessive | |
| How can I stay meek and humble and still be aggressive | |
| How can I achieve harmony and still be obsessive | |
| These are the types of nearimpossible, paradoxical obstacles | |
| That put lesser emcees in mental hospitals | |
| Consider myself a cat that' s equal to the task | |
| Dangerous behind the mic, a havoc wreaker to the last | |
| Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast | |
| Express joy or sorrow, but you' d rather wallow in your averageness | |
| Decked in lavish dress, but lyrically can' t pass the test | |
| Who laughs the best when this culture dies a tragic death | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" |
| Verse 1: Othello | |
| My spiral notebook is a tool to compose | |
| The translations of my heart and influence of the soul | |
| My Power Source allows me not to have a typical flow | |
| Innovate, create and reach beyond the typical goals | |
| Following trends have never seemed to be my steelo | |
| Switch it up, three for the money, four for the show | |
| Mad original, and from the time the track begins and ends I' m hoping and praying | |
| That you' ve been inspired to go higher then the limitations | |
| Of shackles and chains, amazing how change is available | |
| To anyone who makes an honest attempt | |
| Exempt to no man, oh man, I was like, yo man | |
| I find it ironic how all the times I flunked within the book I found the answers | |
| To the problems, now me and the Author is tight | |
| I rock the mic and He writes my rhymes | |
| We make a good team don' t you agree | |
| Christ plus Othello equals emcee | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" | |
| Verse 2: Page One | |
| These false emcees will do backflips to stack chips, but never stay true to their craft | |
| That' s how I separate wheat from the chaff | |
| I bomb like graf, super raw style for the new millennium | |
| Got mad styles on file, but the mind is the Pentium | |
| Processing data, it don' t matter who got the phattest click | |
| It all depends upon what you use to measure my status with | |
| And that it' s fit to be used, I see through crews who | |
| Only concerned with who' s who, not paying dues | |
| But you couldn' t walk a mile in my shoes without stumblin | |
| Fumblin, now your whole foundation is crumblin | |
| You tried to salvage, performing mental cryogenics | |
| But defile the mic one time and it' s sweet dreams like Annie Lennox | |
| Verse 3: Othello | |
| We' re putting bits and pieces together like clouds and rainy weather | |
| My finished product makes me wonder if its really real | |
| I' m seeking for a place to rest my head and paint a picture | |
| Peacefully abide in Christ, bright and happy days | |
| Warm colors of hazel sunrays cater to daydreamings and mental replays | |
| Of clear and distinct unforgettables | |
| Accompanied by a few pivotal moments, elements of joy components | |
| Make me see past all my opponents | |
| Home alone in perfect peace, stable and meek | |
| Meditate and daze away when thoughts become complete | |
| Seeking to find and bust divine rhymes and smile with white teeth | |
| I' m in my own little world say what you do at night I sleep | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" | |
| Verse 4: Page One | |
| We' re droppin gems cut with many facets, the passage of time | |
| Can blur the line between the subliminal and sublime | |
| But sometimes I lie awake nights, mentally take flights | |
| Back to the days before greed poisoned hip hop like snakebites | |
| How can I take it back to the essence and still be progressive | |
| How can I dispense this freely and still be possessive | |
| How can I stay meek and humble and still be aggressive | |
| How can I achieve harmony and still be obsessive | |
| These are the types of nearimpossible, paradoxical obstacles | |
| That put lesser emcees in mental hospitals | |
| Consider myself a cat that' s equal to the task | |
| Dangerous behind the mic, a havoc wreaker to the last | |
| Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast | |
| Express joy or sorrow, but you' d rather wallow in your averageness | |
| Decked in lavish dress, but lyrically can' t pass the test | |
| Who laughs the best when this culture dies a tragic death | |
| Chorus | |
| Methodical styles I flip | |
| Makin' up for lost time I spent, times I slipped | |
| From the cup of lies I sipped, ill equipped | |
| But now sample: " I represent through mind, soul and body" |
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