El-P
El-P - The Hang, The Front, The Bush And The Shit songtekst
Je score:
(Pass me the tiger piss) I tunnel rat into the hidden habits of collage dog inferno No turning paths back(charlie attack!) The half man have orders to burn the village And come out with both hands intact I'm not a mechanism born from disdain, I had to be trained Now I catcall with dead walkers I'll send a postcard form the Nang If I can get onto the roof in time to hang From the leg of this last chopper Son of an obese burner perturbed to grow in a row Of rotating blood colors on brick textures And others modified climates make nasty tongue plunge (head shots) With opposite of chameleon blends from cartoon dreadnoughts There was this parasite inside my wide intestinal tract That took over my bark box before I had a chance to take my life back And his deformed banter suprised me (where at?) At the recruiters office, learning how to get a head in advertising He said: "Sure, others have passed, this is a gate to definition But thats not the singular attraction to the setup Not the action or the sacrifice of past draftees Actually more of a layaway ducats plan For the young get up and go out motivators See the new soldiers smolder different From that antiquated taste of stately hatred" Well I came from melting options on the D train to the lobby See academics played second in my life To unmatriculated brain hobbies And I admire the dedication to you ranks Plus want the training Loss is not a big problem it's all about what I'd be gaining, "Well you'll get power, respect, an audience, a check, a car, Money for school, honey with uniform fetish on your tool, You'll travel, form bonds, be a part of something have a structure, catch bullets..." (catch bullets?) "...I meant cash bonus See this gold plaque, you could own it After killing half a million It's such a good feeling To earn your country's respect and love So what do you say son, are you my man?" Fuck it, sign me up Rock rock b boy, rock rock mang The nang, the nang, the nang, the nang Rock rock b boy, rock rock mang The nang, the nang, the nang, the nang I'm not a mechanism born from disdain, I had to be trained Now I cat call with dead walkers I'll send a postcard form the Nang If I can get onto the roof in time to hang From the leg of this last chopper Emerson Lake Palmer aka dirty larva spray harder What a marvelous martyr maker 50 gig tone hold old dusty digital makeup Melt with me slower this round Technical retardation sound round one sound the hardest Heartless Heartless harvest, farthest, farenheit alotted The hot shit, hopped up and shifty Shift shit sickly, monster ancient makeshift ministry mic on Nervous slur bomb teleprompter, sights on Laser head looks like a linguist fighter lights flurry down Rounds like a ration Allied force stranded Stranded like a lord of the bugs and disbanded Better bring the band aids Hustle shit fantasy gun talk Erotic logic walks out of boxes Dead thug hug slug, metal like molten De-evolve thug, crawl back in the ocean Hoppy Horatio choke on broke potion Broke and most potent to float, flank the facts Face the fucks with flak jackets Jack of all trade Embargos, faded like '88 Kane fashion I'm back like packers Mongoloid melody tracked backwards, broken into fragments With terpuntine flows that broke down biblical tablets Broken down handicapped cats leave in traction The breath of sick death leaves a chest convexed with no F Six steps to infected waste container misery Fat thighs chafe in the summer from humidity, humid unhuman Brains that bloom tulips Caught between animal thoughts and what was taught by Confucious B-boy lucid, ugly motherfucker for faces of art addicts Just for my people Persecute plagiarist dangerous at a close range Dose brains close to the range To rope frames for the celebrity roast Most celebrity aspirations get tossed in the moat With the mackerel, actual track catapult Corpses act animate Walk around the back yard munching on brain cabinets Sad but erratic Irregular predator with bad brain magic Magic is a Siegfried and Roy with boy special Batter the tapestry with bruises Born to leak from alpine box in hot cruiser (straight bruiser) With chain mail coats and bullet proof chokers The most you can hope is to only get half choked That's half a joke I'm adamant, AWOL to the last atom Active ax handler, handle hurt merchandise Flirt, with inert word device devised Formed pertinent ties Tied to word commando kids, rise Show me those New York eyes Isolation eats at the face of phrase biters Bite bleak void, small world big noise Swallowed by void, wallow with toys Hollow metal slugs penetrated Just demonstrated Fuck your fake face I hate it