Lirik Lagu Run For Cover - Eric B. & Rakim
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[Gunshots and explosions](Scratching: Run DMC sample: "Run")Run for cover.
Here I go again ready to flow again.Better hold my mic don't blow again.Warned by alarms when the mic gets warm.Crowd'll get critical can't keep calm.Jet for the exit why hang around?Words that I found make the mic melt down.If you stay better cooperate cuz I amputateand whoever don't break I'm a suffocate.Leave 'em with asthma, you better pass themic to the massacre master who has thepower to build and destoy at the same time,so track the wack at the right, and exact could shine. (?)Meant to beat overheat, but I won't stop,so evacuate the spot when the mic's hot.Switch it from one hand to another,and that's a hint, my brother, run for cover.Cuz I'm armed, my brain contains a bomb,as if I escaped from Vietnam.Some people label me lethal, lyrics I made then put beats to.Format, collapse, your lungs twist your tongues,you can't bump your gums off of none of the drums.Words that I made'll create an iller scene,Eric B. is the fly human being on the guillotine.Hook 'em up to a respirator, cuz it's the Mista Suffocator.What I write is like shovin' a mic down your windpipe.Don't let him bit rhymes Rakim write.No mic-to-mouth resuscitation is neccessary;no obituary, and if they're left, they're buried.As it strikes on the same mic twice and then,cut it on, and I'm-a strike again.I meditate off the breaks, till the place shakes,then I make rain, hail, snow and earthquakes.Speak the truth, tear the roof off the mother.The stage is stompin' grounds -- run for cover.
Here I go again ready to flow again.Better hold my mic don't blow again.Warned by alarms when the mic gets warm.Crowd'll get critical can't keep calm.Jet for the exit why hang around?Words that I found make the mic melt down.If you stay better cooperate cuz I amputateand whoever don't break I'm a suffocate.Leave 'em with asthma, you better pass themic to the massacre master who has thepower to build and destoy at the same time,so track the wack at the right, and exact could shine. (?)Meant to beat overheat, but I won't stop,so evacuate the spot when the mic's hot.Switch it from one hand to another,and that's a hint, my brother, run for cover.Cuz I'm armed, my brain contains a bomb,as if I escaped from Vietnam.Some people label me lethal, lyrics I made then put beats to.Format, collapse, your lungs twist your tongues,you can't bump your gums off of none of the drums.Words that I made'll create an iller scene,Eric B. is the fly human being on the guillotine.Hook 'em up to a respirator, cuz it's the Mista Suffocator.What I write is like shovin' a mic down your windpipe.Don't let him bit rhymes Rakim write.No mic-to-mouth resuscitation is neccessary;no obituary, and if they're left, they're buried.As it strikes on the same mic twice and then,cut it on, and I'm-a strike again.I meditate off the breaks, till the place shakes,then I make rain, hail, snow and earthquakes.Speak the truth, tear the roof off the mother.The stage is stompin' grounds -- run for cover.
