Triforce Pump Up!

by Forty Psychic Frames

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released February 20, 2006

Wyatt Furtherton, Poody, Anthony Jackson, Scurvy D


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Forty Psychic Frames North Carolina

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Track Name: Dirty Nutrients 2005
Wyatt: Wooooo!
Poody: Orange hair perpetrator. You can't even try to kick it out of your ears
Wyatt: Dirty Nutrients 2005!
Poody: They're feeling good. I think they're gonna bust one off right around now.

I'm so fucked, I make you fuckers want to run.
Have faith for me man, both my hand equipped with guns.
Batteries not included,
got three different phrases in which I'm fluent.
Pull string, “Holla Back”.
Pull again, “Shaq Attack”.
Feel this shit.
One, two, three.
Park bench carve and packing cigars,
full of healthy nutrients including tar.
Adolescents thinking on their own,
Oh what's wrong man, you think they really know?
Banzai tree keeps Miyagi at peace,
so what's keeping us from packing the weed?
Oh yeah, it's bitches taking our shit,
but bitches in strip clubs can show they tits?
I'm done with this,
but I'll send it over to my brother who isn't.

Scurvy D:
Postulate the high stakes with my mind in an altered state.
Bust scales to cop weight before oblivion takes your soul,
for an unholy roll ‘cause your ass lost control,
and went loco with the bowl.
New perspectives, new time
Still drop the same rhyme, won't slip to make a dime.
Ant you gonna perpetrate a crime? Oh wait was it five?
Went crazy like Johnny Blaze, lyrics cut like light saber blades.
Eyes shaded in a haze, your mind lost in a daze
That Forty PF made the sick maze make "bongo cans" the new craze.
Send signals for residuals, drop tracks coded in digital.
To keep up the fucking ritual.

Anthony: Keep up the fucking ritual neah.
Poody: So good. So good.
Wyatt: So good
Poody: Forty PF in the house.
Track Name: Over the Mountain
Scurvy D:
Cast control over the globe ‘cause my style is cold,
whether it's verse or prose,
‘cause i'm heavy eye-lidded, my gas is unleaded.
Killer conservatives, if you’re with me you get it.
Check out this shit, cancer stick on my lip
gonna mack on your bitch, charm her into a switch.
Ruthlessly shooting my gift.
Fortune for a crime if you’re getting my drift.
It's ok to have fear for my crew,
to be honest with you, I’d be afraid of us too.
Play me at my game and you’re bound to lose.
We’re paying our dues!

Every time I turn around your back is turned there with me.
And I thought I saw your face when you were staring at the,
old barn, bombed out, down on ninety ninth street.
In the blinding heat my ghost don't look like a white sheet.
Ten days of us compressed down into a minute.
That dress is the best pressed down onto your shoulder like cement.
I can't get bent, that dress is doing me in
Hey Sam I am, Sam I am, I am green.
I can't find my page, so I'm rapping on this beat,
but I seem to forget this time for time on this street.
And it's time I’m sure I’m going to go blind,
it’s mine that’s in a humped back whale in the summer time.

Enlightenment seekers unsafe like Catholic preachers.
Who cares? Let's have sex underneath the high school bleachers.
Feature films present all the money you spent,
on coke straws for belligerents,
wipe your dusty nose Hoffman.
And Fran Drescher’s voice fill my ears with noise.
Try to avoid that bitch like a crab itch from Joyce.
Flows maxed out like the stage drops,
Maniac unties knots, Don back in the day.
Adam West, “Great Scott”
Pop-pop a Georgio, no more controller,
to two play Dragon Warrior,
I got a feeling that you sold it.
Jot down your will mang, and fold it up,
send it to your lawyer,
‘cause now I got a feeling that your gonna get struck down.
God damn it, I’m tired of you. Fucking with you.
While new kicks get smudged they’re all laughing at you!
Ha ha ha bitch, ah your dog needs fed.
Ha, how does it feel to have one of them bullets in your head?!
Track Name: Why It?
Wyatt, Wyatt.
Track Name: The Shit
Poody here with a mic attack,
make my voice heard on a another forty forty track.
Got something to say about the way I play,
I’m going to live my life, like it's my last day,
‘cause players fuck up, and sometimes get caught,
by the police looking for a quota spot.
I can't run away, I got to face the day,
pent up in the motherfucking prison,
Grey suit that never fits,
what the fuck did I do that no one gets away with?
It's not who you know, but what you got to pay,
to break through the bars to feel the light of day.
On your shoulders and on your feet,
showing liquid gold even though it's concrete.
So listen up, here's my advice
submerge your life in a sea of vice.
You never know when it's going to stop,
just on a hunch of an asshole cop,
that shackles wrist in a silver cuff,
spouting evidence that's clearly a bluff.
Flash my finger to the law and judge,
that lock me up with an empty shrug.
Just know someday that I’ll be out
on a covert mission to make you shout.
In ever lasting pain and agony,
revenge for the year you stole from me.

Scurvy D:
I think we going to cipher,
deliver more hits than Rowdy Roddy Pipper.
Lay it down with my brothers in the Trifa.
Add one more 40 Frame just to spite you.
I'll knock you around, hit you in your dome,
docs will send you home with Russian syndrome.
your speed twice weak, you play half strong,
we do it much better, while taking shifts from the bong.
It won't be long, you'll be pumping this song,
it’s no surprise, we've been the kings all along.
But it’s okay Chets,
this ain't the end yet,
new song to get,
so just don't sweat.
We got the greed,
and the need,
a good blend of weed,
we got the jams to make your ears bleed.
Now you a fiend,
hooked on this scheme,
we just a team,
with the need to get C.R.E.A.M

If you want to get fucked up,
I’ll tell you what's tight:
Mix everclear with Gatorade electrolytes.
Experimental jet sets the decibel level.
Crunk up the bass and beat out the treble.
My shit be high rise, investing enterprise.
Stock market crash, Booyah taking cash.
Find your dictionary, look up ‘thug’,
There's a picture of me.
Take time out to please.
Lady on her knees,
suck it, suck it, suck it, suck it, all night long.
Sweet as the creme inside my ding dong.
Like Rob Lowe, I’ll be an outsider.
It’s hot burning up in St. Elmo’s Fire.
I’m tired, blood be thick in my veins,
this beat blow your head off like
Kurt-Kurt Cobang.
Phallus in Dallas to Angelica Houston.
Everything's bigger in Texas right?
Break me off a piece of that ass.
Beta 58 I’ll pass.

On the mic, on the blunt, not the cunt,
or a Vicodin in the back of the label's trunk.
3 plus 2 plus the ten run rule,
e-i-g-h-t plus or minus a few.
I swallow three pints of blood,
it's sick and I'm sick with
this shit floating through my brain liquid.
Tell me I'm done, I don't recollect
I just forget about what I'm done with.
It's just do re mi,
can I still see?
With this s-h-i-p,
without the sea?
Cash flow broke more than your eskimo knows
life more dead than the hair your barber knows.
Drilled through this, look at these!
I got bloody fists and I've got more than three.
Drilled holes and a half of a fifth,
is this death or just sickness.
Care is harder than wear, and bare is worse than the New Jersey toll fare.
And I can see it in the air tonight, and we're "ready to fight"
so don't choke when you bite.
Track Name: Masta Controlla
Press the button on the wrist to swallow the frozen Iron Fist
a play at home plate with Chris Sabo and Carlton Fisk in the bottom of the third
Pull back to make your neck snap open with cat's [who are] clawing at your spine
And then twelve feline being will clean their paws of your blood
and seven more will moan to eat the dirty mud
And days will past faster than you'd ever would have liked and you'll want to die more than you should
So just sit back without attack or lack for reading decent paper back books
and we'll go to the place where you watched the horse race
trample two jockey's hoof straight through the face

Scurvy D:
You can never take me whole if you catch me at all
I put ninety percent of myself in these bars
every rhyme I write is written in blood
every time I grab the mic prepare for a flood
a torrent
ever growing deluge
of bad breath that reeks of chronic and booze
a short tempered artist with no fuse for fools
Master! Controller! Paid more than his dues!
I'll say it again, "Got a group with no bitch."
everyone a player handy in a pinch
each a mic wrecker ready to sin
on constant lookout for the next piece of trim
Track Name: Mountaineer/Explorer
Scurvy D:
Hate, hate, hate while we rolling tonight,
blow up the fucking mic so we can set it off right.
High stakes in the Benz,
save the day life super friends,
Triforce, new era begins.
Out of the fog so the stars can shine,
cop lights from behind, trigger paranoid mind.
Mountaineer explorers, shout out to Forrest
Still don't need no fucking chorus

Chunky ass bitch trying to wear a small bra size,
wrong thing to do ‘cause brothers see it cut into your sides.
Throw that shit off, hop and hop and hop
’til those big titties flop.
Show us that back, back, back
and now we back again.
Possums and shit, higher than the A’ville mountains.
Scurvy got the wheel, Wyatt up front chills,
Ant be like he be in police automobiles.

I watch for falling rocks and cop spots,
around twelve o clock, I’m seeing dots point out,
up down left on your mouth is a cleft,
so you slur under your breath like uh laser beams,
and play like Larry King,
so it all seems like a dream
Uh put it down!
Track Name: Untitled (661)
Scurvy D:
I got the tools to twist and flip some shit
my rhymes come in quick with the force of mind tricks
hot Jedi nights
Top in saber fights
bright neon light on the side of right
that sweet green tree
setting me free
only thing I found to put me at ease
and I know
that the man won't agree
One thing to say: leave me fucking be!
Now, the time is close at hand
survey the land before enacting my plan
We getting in the game 'cause I said we can
If you doubting me son, your soul be damned

Have you seen Shaf as of late?
Girl popped out of a batchelor cake; soon she was the center of a gang rape
Too much to hate
like a casserole, a Casiotone.
if we could breathe underwater you'd still have to hold your nose
as I watch an oriole land on a stereo I think about so many awful things like:
being eaten by a 1000 pound dog, being buried in the front lawn or burned alive in car to a pop song like:

Scurvy D:
It's your neighborhood pot-head
watch as me and Wy drop this
Forty Frames rock shit
Same at your pockets
Every other day need a bag of Zig Zig Ay
Start a new craze
before a quick roll in the hay
You never heard the likes of this before
we be dreaming to get more
those who live by the swords
we fucking Frames
bullets untamed
damage to your brain
while you get the shit you crave
make your fucking day
each get our say
hit you with some strays
time to get paid

I was told to chill, to Shut-Up And Listen
so I could hear fireworks going off in the distance
But I just want to blow up with nuclear fission
from the isotopes coming from the power station
It's such a blessing to perceive what you want. I can't talk, I can't see what's in front
because the eyeholes in the bag are too small.
Let the cinder blocks fall and crush me onto my chest. I can't breathe!
Let the vultures eat me. So that this will be my last breath.
Nah, I was only trying to test the fake ingest of the uncapped poison
so call me back
at (6) 661-2974
Track Name: Here to Stay
Everyone, Everywhere
Feel this shit, get out your chair.
Wait, hold up, get out our way.
Forty Frames are here to stay.

Fresh, you know that Forrest is back.
BLAOW! I'll assail you with a psychic attack.
In fact, I never slack when it comes to my act.
Tracks will hit you in the brain before you react.
Now we're back with the Frames, you be screaming our names
And even though things changed, we done stayed the same.
And though half the crew's the other side of the state
Their rhymes be off the chain when they doing their thing.
Make sure you know you can't fuck with the flow.
So and so's, I don't want to hear your hate no more.
I can't think of a better way to get this crowd to the floor
Than to pump some 40PF for sho.
You see, lyrically other MC's they cannot handle me.
Pathetically playing the game like they're in Little League.
Silly G's leave, away with thee, leave us be.
Pack up Double D, proceed to smoke trees, please.
Shit we gonna party tonight.
So pump up the beats and bring the party to life.
DJ D's on the turn tables spinning it right
While Scurves, Wy, and Anthony is rocking the mic.
B-lush shatter glass like he the banshee.
Make the melody sound sweet like the candy.
Sugary, like the tea that I drank last week.
When I was flying down to Mexico to chill on the beach.
Sonic boom, very soon you will meet your doom.
On stage, we spin like humanoid typhoons.
At night, capture light straight up from the moon
Then we sit around and listen to prismatic tunes.
Baptized in alibis, let down and criticized
But you're only bound to cry if you listen to lies.
All will be made clear when you open your eyes.
Break the borders, break the ties and let the music hit the sky.

Everyone, Everywhere
Feel this shit, get out your chair.
Wait, hold up, get out our way.
40 Frames are here to stay.

Step Back Forrest
‘Cause the X is back
Making y’all look foolish
Like clowns juggling spiked bats
I have the knack to rap
Causing your back to crack
Shaking your brain
bringing pain like whiplash.
pay attention and stand correct
As my dick is erect now ready to inject
bitch show me some respect
I be showing some neglect
Before I snatch that forty pf
out your tape deck.
Now look at this power
I make sweet girls turn sour
‘cause after an hour
I be kicking you out
Make them shout
are you ready for this bout
I’m about to do something crazy I’m about to shoot you.
This is a battleground
introducing B-lush
Forty will defeat your army
like a lyrical William Wallace.
My bank accounts are filled with zeros
I’m just crazy enough to play hide and seek with Robert DeNiro
Shout out to Scurvy D: the maitre d
Anthony robbing all the bitches like they just can’t see
Wyman still got corrosion on the p’s
Kicking it with B-lush on the collabo’ scene.
"Girl, enough with that singing," thats "Gangstaish"
Feeling "220 headies" "Cause Suge Knight is a bitch."
ridin psychic rides,hearing psychic tones,
Peeping my cheese, while giving girls psychic bones.
"Predicately abusive", Coming at you with some new shit,
As I lose it, penis aiming right up on your clit,
Speeding fifth gear, one twenty onto forty
backseat filled with shorties, watching Bombay and Gordie.
We went our separate ways, y’all thought it would stop,
Still pumping out tracks now there’s a tie for the top spot.
Xplicit signing off, chilling with the Forrest
Yo blushious, holla back and hold down the chorus.

Everyone, Everywhere
Feel this shit, get out your chair.
Wait, hold up, get out our way.
40 Frames are here to stay.

DJ Dizzump:
Stay, that is a word for the wicked
Forty’s back, still laying out that thick shit
chairs? fuck that, get out your soul
taking your breath like days of old
Fifties in my pocket, I don't think so they’re Benj
glow in the air has that sick green tinge
from the weed? from the money? it's plain to see
flowing forth with the spot, it's coming from me
crew ain't the crew, yes you know how we do
when the power's full force it'll be after you too
Anthony, Wyatt, S-D'll return
’til then bitches just sit back and learn
When it comes the time to lay a mother fucking rhyme
who better crew to show you how to show the who
we three, B too, yo we all in this
what better way to blow your fucking load in bliss
“Oops, sorry, oh I got it in your eye!"
Ah, Fuck you bitch, that'll make you blind
only hearing, but i'll steal your sight
stab you in the dark, from crystal clear to night
Sun's up, seeing returns, but only with the hearing
of those fucking psychic words
so step back just take in the lines
all be over soon, your only soul's demise

Everyone, Everywhere
Feel this shit, get out your chair.
Wait, hold up, get out our way.
40 Frames are here to stay.
Track Name: Dear Ho Sun
Scurvy D:
Let me take a couple seconds to get some shit straight,
220 ain't just a place, it’s a mental state.
Elevate, alleviate before your mind breaks.
Slip away to the cosmos; truly spiritual way.
Each and every time your back is to the wall,
you know you can call, MJ to ease the fall.
If its good enough for Spidey,
it’s good for us all,
split it with your boys,
you can call it a draw.
I carry some on me wherever I go
take a hit before the show,
it ensures tight flows.
I guess you can say
I'm in love with the bowl,
You can, mother fucker
Pass it lighter and all!

I be fucking crazy kid
Addicted to these crack rocks,
mind over out.
I doubt you my son ‘cause everyone
on the block has put their hotdog
inside of your momma's buns.
Ask her for child support, straight up,
‘cause she’s got enough support
to fill her double d cups
Enough said, I'm dead to you,
like you are to me.
Blow your fucking mind,
like Anthony

Hotember, as i wake with a stretch,
pull the covers of the hips of my recent conquest.
Sloot groupie wouldn't keep covered her breast,
hypno-rhymed by the Forty PF.
Woke her up with a slurpee surprise,
suck started orgasms paralyzing thighs,
then i'm out, in snake suit disguise
oscillating smoked up reptilian eyes.
In my slippers, leashed beagle at my feet,
nose to the road in pursuit of weed,
not to confiscate, but to catch and release
to the millions all to pleased to have the THC
Feel our bite in the back of your heel
the fangs injecting venom of our lyrical skill
that takes your breath and booty, leaving you your thrills
it's not your beating hearts, but panties we steal.
Track Name: Hot Night
Scurvy D:
You got blue lights
I got a mic
I can take a hike
where ever I like
this shit sets me off
no wasted thoughts on cost
ever chill like Bob Ross?
You got reasons to fear
I could end your whole career
your cuts crystal clear
deciphered your cipher
my intelligence hyper hot
on your live wire
of your truth
quit stealing my youth
with your lack of couth
pull like a tesla
measure and test you
see you just a jester
tobacco hotbox
weed on the rocks
holy like the cross
glamor from the dross...

Don't fuck with the big four oh
we the stars of this show
just know
we want to flow
watch as our plans unfold

it's the same old us
Filling your bitch's tank
'till she's all filled up
Mental image
I'm all brain damage
I be the meat
Inside of your sex sandwich
On the throne
the king of donruss.
Holla gram back (kak)
We ain't no mockups
Take it and make it what you want?
Your figure wavy
A camel's hump
Get your phone
now you can call me
Legs will shake
Like the hands of Ali
Caddy's top shelf
Wheels are made of chrome
ET Phone Home

Dropped to his knees, he can't breathe HA
choking on the corner of his sweatshirt sleeve
and this is my impression of Anthony
"My mother fucking bike was gay ass purple G"
So I sing in a low hollow a flat key
I bet Chet would bring your life heck
all night, that right? Thumbnail covers up the kite.
and the days are cold and I'm still old I'm told
and I could fold up into coal
and burn so
watch me jump from the towns tallest trees
watch me swim until my lungs break free
and watch me watching people watch tv
just watching, so watch me

Don't fuck with the big four oh
we the stars of this show
just know
we want to flow
watch as our plans unfold

I draw a point five line through the center of a duck
so what? I must bisect this motherfuck
set fire to your jade esclade truck
I can't shut up
take me away before I self destruct.

Don't fuck with the big four oh
we the stars of this show
just know
we want to flow
watch as our plans unfold
Track Name: Goin' Home
Scurvy D:
Give me a pen yo, I'll drop some hot shit.
Give me a mic yo, for sure I’ll step correct.
Give me the bowl yo, green guarantee a hit.
Give me a signal, Forty Frames straight legit.
Back in the day if The View got you,
you didn't know what the fuck to do.
You didn't know that your whole crew was screwed,
only had a spilt second to choose.
Between G and E, so don't play me, B
‘cause your rhymes can't affect
what your eyes can't see
We’re too fast for you
I spit only truth,
Fire like Double Deuce
More kicks than Bruce.
Now I know you want to call us ruthless,
but the truth is we do this to prove it,
to those who don't move it.
Act quick before you lose it,
The Frames the only true shit,
Silent and stealthy
go through with our music.

Cut it up, cut it up,
get it aligned.
Straw to the table,
suck it up in your mind
This the kind of shit
That will lift-lift you up,
when you’re on top of Sergeant Johnson,
stick it in your muff.
Bluff me now, I got a red straight flush,
You got a pair a deuces ‘cause I see you blush
I may not be good as DJ D,
out of his fucking pockets,
He’s got a shit load of fifties
Don't start a Forrest fire ‘cause he’ll tear you up
Shot down splat, ‘cause he got his gat
Holla back to my boy tagged X,
His mouth may be dirty, but give a nieah some respect.
I'm tired of fucking these bags of bones
Bitches remind me of what you see on TV shows
Your wives pussy be aching to get boned
Rounding third
‘cause Scurvy D I got to got to get home.

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