Phunk2 - Erkopi Christofi
Okej detta är den andra texten nu idag, bara för att jag vill att folk ska kritisera den innan jag spelar in den. Den handlar om min uppväxt och hur vi utväcklas.
He was a karatee boy//
But he had nunchackes (nunchackes)//
Grown up with no joy//
But his uncle with a motojacket (motojacket)//
Erkopi Christofi became his name//
He never claimed a future fame//
And now his statement was that he came//
Sunshine in mind but outdoors there was rain//
Always combind with havin a primetime//
His father was an artist as he started to sign//
Looked smart and so Erkopi commited a crime//
A yea' after he turned the page//
And there it was his first line//
They let him go out the cage//
Now enter the profets divine stage//
Just let him leave in past, his rage//
And so he left the fuck up//
From his parents vision he was a suck up//
This might be a rare descission//
But the next yea' he was back up//
Hope he get back to possitive plus five//
Grandpa left world to early to die//
Teached Erkopi cardtricks and to smoke out hives//
Life was to far to fit, but not with a plastic misile//
He listened to ducktales on the boombox//
Conspiracy theorys, and thought that clones rock//
Invented spaceship doom docks//
Ghostbusters and several types of detox//
At least in his mind without limits//
Fine hockeycards made him scream "Gimmie!"//
Wanted to ski like his father did//
Skiing with snowflakes in the wood as a kid//
But that the dislocated shoulder forbid//
Atleast he tried as his relatives said//
When grandpa left he gave him one thread//
Erkopi it's always time to go to bed//
Doesn't matter how much we try//
In the end relatives will be same as I//
HOLLABACK!
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