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8 Shades

from DIGITAL JUNGLE by Starvin B

/

lyrics

Enter the Armpit of the Dragon....
Space cakes on deck..
You aint got the right kind of funk...

I got my peace pipe packed
It bees like that
Winter or the summer
The fingertip number
I keep it on the humble but you know I'm on the comeup
When the price switch numbers
Foes get done up
You knew shorty bell but you were ringin it wrong
She fucked around and got ya iPad singin my song
I think its getting on ya nerves that I smile so much...
And hang with city slickers actin wild as fuck
Childish thugs ya buggin till my team go flip
Ya might just never return from ya ego trip
B so sick
And I aint even looking for a cure
Put the album in the baggie like I cooked it with the pure
Awwww
Thats the riggy raw for sure
Hardcore got these whores busting out the speaker nylon
I paint without a krylon
The one ya keep ya eye on
Before the sunrise
i get my shine on



100 percent
Real as what I invent
No second takes or hesitation expecting a break
I probly need medication
The only thing thats stable in my life is medication
Bless ya station
Hijack ya satellite for a night
Get it right
Im flying flammable kites and explosive devices
The flow is dry ice
Take ya peoples advice
I run through crews like an avenue of all green lights
Peep it
Prestigious from the dome to the toes
And leave em froze like Malcolm X put the chrome to they nose
Run in ya home, put a dent in ya throne
Stick my finger in ya dinner,spit in ya sink and pick up ya phone
Bogard stages
Unlisted in the yellow pages
These other fellas coming sweeter than vanilla wafers
How you living?
Still whizzing in incinerators?
You been a hater, Im an innovator.


You can call it swag rap, I call it crapola.
I keep y'all names filed in the black folder.
When the revolution hits better run for the hills.
Long ass list of folks we might kill.
As sure as black thongs get stained, evacuate my lane.
When I board, theres a bomb on the plane.
Im a-tomic
mad chronic in the i-v drip.
See my hemp supersonic on some Sean Kemp shit.
No redemption
Envisionin ya road to perdition involving ya neck twistin,
its a mic checksorsism
Linda Blair wasn't prepared and neither are you
You aint sick when my fever is a hundred and two
You can catch me in the lab I leave my lung in the booth
Keep ya tongue in ya cheek 'fore I ruffle ya goose
Old school crackheads with beepers don't get mic time.
Strictly speed knots to the dome.
Nighty night time.
Starvin B rck for the millionth and ninety ninth time
Deadin ya on ya narcotics
No lifeline

credits

from DIGITAL JUNGLE, released October 13, 2017
produced by One Take
Mixed and mastered by Spent D'nero
Recorded by Chez Rocka

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Starvin B New York

Queens emcee Starvin B is a throwback to the golden era of Hip-Hop when flow, lyrical content, and wordplay were more important than swag. The hard rhyming New Yorker has been garnering attention in the states and abroad with a handful of albums that don’t lack in lyrics.
Hometown: Queens, NY (Sunnyside/Woodside)
Ethnicity: Indonesian and Irish
Bats Lefty, Throws Righty ... more

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