El-P – El-P and Despot: Selector Freestyle Lyrics
I'm going ham, I'm going cheese, I'm going bread
I'm going sandwich, hold that famine, bitch, I'm fed
I'm going so over your head you should eat something else instead
When I blow up only hope that the explosion leave you dead.
The mother of all mothers
Of mothers of all mothers is coming and don’t love you
Run for it burn rubber, the 100 hit wonder
That come with its own thunder that rumbles that old brother.
The block snuggles under the covers and starts snoring
The streets ain’t watching no more, you’re all boring
If Queens says run it, don’t jog, walk, or crawl it.
You breaking bread that’s already broken I can’t call it.
Fake the fuckers fed up with front issue back often (?)
Shake the leg of vultures, take off with your Air Jordans
I take your head right off your shoulders it’s fair warning,
Got the game sealed like a walrus in the thesaurus.
Happy to meet you,
Limped here from a shattered town.
Grew into a firefly,
Shining where the shadows drown
While others sit and sin (?), read, limp in unison like cattle prowl
I legitimately signify how all us bastards howl.
Point out to another man who’s longer held the haggle down
I’ll point you out a priest who never preached to Peter Pan and Pals.
Now that’s an automatic party foul,
Like cleaning out the balm while Bigfoot’s tossed out sanitary towels.
Shit, I’m not crying wolf until the moon is out.
Ducking silver bullet clips
Pull the flesh off grills in strips
What a sin, play the full grip sip gin and spin
Moolah of a wasted man,
Pull the trigger click and grin.
Better have your floaties on,
Tighter than a gastric ring.
I’ll drown you in your soup of peers,
Fill a baby pool with tears.
I see you all in hell and flames, I’m chasing city money.
Cyclone in the summer
Ride on my dick ‘til you’re sitting funny.