Madchild ft. Krondon, Evidence - All I Know Lyrics

Yeah that’s that shit i’ma spin that back

Yeah, I like this shit yo
When I start writing, having all-nighters
Writing ‘til I feel like
I’ve got fucking arthritis
Little King Kong, strong song writer
I’ll get some shit out my
Chest like I’ve got bronchitis
Mortifying, open up and then
It’s more to fire
Horrifying, not quite bipolar but borderline
Bruce Lee spitting profusely
Gifted like a spruce tree
Banging out another verse on loose leaf
Blue beast
Hanging while I’m soaking up my new seems
Switching up my routine taco’s
‘stead of poutine
Tried to take a flock of my Canadian geese
Duck, I’ll put that goose down
Canadian fleece

I feel this (In my soul)
I got it (In my soul)
It comes from (my soul)
And this is (my soul)

From their filers ‘fences throw in the towel
Leave your body singe'n
You’ll probably need a fire engine
Seven senses playing miles
Never give it interest
Stressing their opinion
It’s in bless their vision
Twisting up my escape mission, the lights off
Door knock, the weight in my pains
Visit the Shell Shock nu buck Timberland
Dead stop, the crew cut
Jaw head, Johnny the jump to the dreadlock
Two jerk chicken and rum
Punch the pestilence false prophets fumbling
Fun funds to let me just
Good play, now it’s a bad run your leg broke
Black Benz minus the patrol, the slow poke
Paralyzed breathing with no pulse
But of course
Sit and sip from the safest source cup
I keep away from Satan’s course
Banking on the better force
Outvoted by the people’s choice

I feel this (In my soul)
I got it (In my soul)
It comes from (my soul)
And this is (my soul)

That last mixtape from Belly was a beast
I still got hunger in my belly, I’m a beast
Started at the bottom
Keep climbing to the peak
Underground but still got gold and
Diamonds on my teeth
Holy smokes feel the spirit
That’s the Holy Ghost
Life’s a rollercoaster
Lucky that I didn’t overdose
Sharp and venomous as fuck
Watch your cobra boast
Fuck with me, you’re comatose
Thousands of ‘em over coke
Bitches by the boatload
Lining up, I keep those
But it’s just catch and release
If she can’t deep throat
I like this new shit, the psycho is adaptable
Spectacular tap you on the back
And crack your scapula
Soul controller drinking Coca-Cola with
A broken molar
White PS4 with four remote controllers
I mass murder with these words
There is no shortage
5’7", when I’m right I’m given short notice