Dub Pistols - Cyclone lyrics

Here are the thrillseekers . . . corrupt, and immoral.

I rip rock unravel when I talk travel

My rock busts shots with the beats that I babble

When I get in your head my thoughts become lead

Pipes that never get the C's out of bread

Repeat the bloodstream

Try to come clean

Got into V by dream to the streets

With a three-sixty degreee turn on the globe

And now you got me runnin' round my area code.

*CHORUS*

You got me runnin in the cyclone

You got me runnin in the cyclone

You got me runnin in the cyclone

Pretend I'm in the zone.

You got me runnin in the cyclone

You got me runnin in the cyclone

You got me runnin in the cyclone

Pretend I'm in the zone

Three seats for the future

Birth on the stairs --?

I go up from the step for my pen to exert

And the G's that revert from the smashin source

In reverse, I take the opposite course

To avoid the steroids and you jack to my record

Because its style, its the style gets neglected

By the natural physique on my way to the men's room

That's when I flip the (neat freak)

Let my lyrics leak as the mountain goes through

I take one last look and take a giant leap

I take a giant leap

I take a giant leap

I take a giant leap

I take a-

I take a-

*CHORUS x3*