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jay pikk - vibrate lyrics

(inhales) yea
heet tape, jukebox, park orange, paperwork (yea)
‘in my head, mic swordz, cop that, back to work

ow
you looking at me now, the supervisor style
ethic wild, sharp around, edges, hat is from kung lao
i get loud like hood women and the weed man they cussing out
cause he f+cking ’round with a one seven something, i ain’t no f+cking child
catch me now, still on the run, difference i’m paying tickets
sticky icky, free til march, them b+tches l!ck the d+ckie
need a fifty million scratch off like fickie fickie
get exquisite, pinkie extended, check how i sippie sippie
n+ggas with me, since robot chicken and snippity dippity
ninja really, pikk and me been recording since auda+city
sony acid, usb mics shorts like swisher minis
now we innie, black panther party records like ms. afeni
listen many people hate on the g+nius engineering
beats raps recording my drive without the power steering
push the fusion like a fresh pair supreme kai’s earrings
and get to mixing everything down to shake ya b+tches earrings

vibrate
feeling a feeling i can’t shake
gripping the mic might make the earthquake
make ya vibrate
sn+tch up the globe i must take no mistakes
ya bumping my mixtapes
make ya vibrate
villains these days they just hate
diligent venom, ya grim up ya face
i make ya vibrate, uh
vibrate, uh
vibrate, uh
vibrate, uh
vibrate

yo
i ain’t banging no tech nine (bow bow bow bow)
navigation through strange times
bass lines that shake up ya trunk like fault lines
stuck off the ambiance, me and my confidantes we shine
sn+tch ya audience off nothing but rhymes
i’m, young zito, destroyer of all evil
lethal to the lives of you n+ggas like white people (yea)
south of the mason dixon diction, getting it how i’m living
lane switching, sweet as candy chevy’s with the paint dripping
cup runneth over like a shook soda (pop!)
my lil soldiers on dro doja, that lean shoulders
on my momma, f+ck a soph0m+re slump, got great posture
sixteens 400 degreez, call they doctors
live from the cauldron, call and alert your squadron
all of them changing release dates to august (swear to god)
virgo on the verge, say word
for some cake don’t get purged
bigger slices of this dessert
that i deserve, word

yo
live from the new mecca
it’s the chin checker, the mic wrecker
west side repper
this trifecta a tribe, you ‘tribeca
i’m reed fantastic
slapping the slapstick
throwing tantrums, like fitz
now they brady backtracking
this backpacking wolfpack the sh+t, can’t match this faction
matchstick pen, mach v flow, this not by accident
f+ck ya standards and practices, cause the standard ain’t practicing
and i spit from a passion pit, flipping sleepyhead mattresses (yea!)
got mines in the trenches
6th man off the benches
found my way in, now i dumb out
they say i’m senseless
but f+ck opinions, don’t see n+ggas
my crew my only competition
listen, this underground
all we know tunnel vision
and elitists want us defeated but can’t silence our g+nius (nah, nah)
entered fumbling for meaning, trust that’s not how i’m leaving (nah, nah)
quit talking to preachers, so my confessional through these speakers
vibrating higher and higher, you need a buddhist to beep him, uh

- jay pikk lyrics

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