"Adrenaline Rush" [x4]



Feel the heartbeat [x4]

Feel the adrenaline rush



[Promoe]

My name P, still the same, word to GP

Y'all wanna test me, you must be CP

I know that wasn't PC, politicaly correct to say

Well, neither is calling you gay

Hey man, I represent from V-ås to A-dam

?A damn? day of the week might go spraycan

From gas-stations to subway stations

Radio-stations, me and Embee on a vacation

Travelling Europe in a bus, on a adrenaline rush

Why superstars travelling egotrips? Because they must!

Are you a big tree then I'm a small chainsaw

Ready to massacre your ass and let the brains blow

With a strange flow, write rhymes till I'm feverish

Make a beverage of pussy-juice and the blood

Of average MC's, on stage I'm illin'

So, after the show lecture girls for sexual healing

My microphone is like shower-curtain

Reveals the naked truth, call me Promoe Perkins

A swedish psycho, travelling businessclass to Norway, Bergen

Setting off fire-alarms, microphones I'm burning

Fucking shit up like Norwegians in S-train-yards

Don't believe me? Check how I bless them bars

With the vocal joint, that'll be the new focal point

For the whole hiphop-world, and still I'm just a little boy

With a passion for taxin' MC's till them in passion

Appoint me the next chief, of finances

You better start giving some fine answers

We all know you're guilty, you lying bastard

Better dead that, talk out of your head crap

Before you hear yourself screaming "Oh no" like redrat

Small-timers, so called rhymers

?Stepping on stings? got old-timers "Where am I?"

This ain't battle-rhymes, it's battle cries, ancient warchamps

My name ain't Biggie, you don't get one more chance

Run off your mouth and I'll run you off the street

Promoe rules from the valley of the deep

Peace to the valley of death, if you wanna step

That'll be your last step, a promise, not a threat

Got you nervous, like you on ???

?Mailbombs?, man, you need to gain pounds, man

You little feather-weight, get it straight, Promoe penetrate

Drill a hole in the ground and turn up in the United States

Unite with greats on the way up

Stay up like girls dressed in stay-up's, bombing lay-up's

Way after bed-time, you get dead rhymes

There'll be no resurrection, for my shit

Brovaz go Cocoa like Smif-n-Wessun, no question

Mics, spraycans and turntables

Bringin the bloodrush like ?Martin Able?

But more than once a month, got MC's

On the midnight run, through the land of the midnight-sun

Sweden, Gotham City to Gothenburg

Don't give a fuck y'all, I'm from the city of a suburb

P R O to the M O E

Messing with me and you end up a memory

R.I.P ??? in the Ruhr-area

Jag heter Mårten, kommer från Sverige

Represent wackness, like Sizla represents slackness

Questionmark check-holders and blackness

Then when you're done licking the balls of Mad Skillz

And Slick Rick take a suck on my big dick

Cause all I see is crews that bite, wack rhymes and wack mics

Men are like rappers when they're overhyped

Over-night-sensations: Promoe's your replacement

I just to get down with my crew in the basement

Now I get the place bent like some

Einstein from the pavement, you sit back in amasement

I write graffiti like some caveman

To the future of two-thousand, signing out five-thousand