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The Fire In Which You BurnArtist: Company FlowAlbum: Funcrusher PlusCompany Flow Funcrusher Plus The Fire In Which You Burn
[Brewin]
Check, check it Fuckin with a nigga like myself your lyrics fail LaVerne's gear shows your record so unless the hoe's buttnaked youse a loser, decrepit, shoulda kept it to your lonesome But you like, 'Look everybody, I'm a silly microphone crumb' You oughta turn to me, I flaunt essential vocally First team all university while your squad is benchin locally Don't mention joke to me, aiyyo dem niggaz ain't atomic Ain't the comic niggaz gutsy, after the disembowelin Don't fuck around, I eat out with your shorty with the crew and she be late for head, she want a tape and dreads and thought of you, a little stinger My shit'll bring the epitome of bitterly jealous Forever living crazy minded trying to tell us how you do it on the power-U, it's simple shit'll get props Don't let me bring it God I swing it hard like little kid bops So front I keep the tone vexin, but to the heads stay pleasant to the ears just think of Lauryn Hill on phone sexin [J-Treds] Relentless poetic rhyme never ceases infinity Forever smokin the mic lyric contact I be open Naturally high and no need to pass the Dutchie I'm the living circle circle dot dot, nobody can touch me At my post, the most high exalted, mind blower When I rap it it's strictly 'I can't believe he just said that shit' Material crews, who can't think straight sober My flows over your head, I enjoy the aerial view Focus from the bird's eye, in my scenario, of dominance Filth eatin weaklings, we're bumRussian/rushin like dirty communists Raisin, my Iron Curtain revealin my words the gospel No apples or giant serpents, the enlightened apostle J-Treds, I lace heads like tennis players top seeded Not meanin to cause a racket, or front the menace My words speak for themselves, so feel me Cause on the mic I've got more presence than attendence in a class of schizophrenics, hear hear Drink to that pick up raps, intoxicating Got your craving my living proof, mixture of speech and wine To' up from just the flow but pass the liquor it's over Henny dead even when twisted I get open like Venetian blinds Company Flow, the fire in which you burn slow I remain Indelible J-Treds, Juggaknotz, to touch the flame you ought not I remain Indelible [El-P] Check check check check check check I the Don Digital, slash, piranha morph Alongside poor terrible surgeons, who blur comic perspectives and wonder how to get bent, that flaming Malatov shit Unstoppable object hits unmovable wall and space split This rogue cherub got his own twisted agenda, catch that Walkin on flatlines, you witness me grow WAY beyond corporate control Let them eat cake, cause I introduce myself as a mistake Slipped through the quills with a serrated barb stabbed, sharp in the gut Now we can all become Lord of the Flies when this industry sees it's demise Hold it up and try to destruct you get zapped with dead eyes The five factions giganti the fuck up and get touched The group hugs you received from your support group can't protect you from the bumrush I'm known to slip arsenic mickies in Talk Soup then reform With an unprecedented fierceness, display these powers of Storm I wasn't born in a manger but I still received three gifts Alphabetically listed they're Big Juss, Mr. Len, and I See the field creatures scurry, I the killer, caution Try to merk off of the pile but you choked on my motherfuckin portion Spade within my excrement bitch parody Your insanity is my clarity, not to mention convention is a great war weapon, disguised under the guise of institutionalism but still prison, the bad batch of jism Who stands, who falls, this is the one the DJ calls lick the ass crack On the wack I keep tabs like Timothy Leary and/or ASCAP The iron lung is non rustable, you're overrated As in smoking dust or sonic contracts that haven't been thoroughly debated Got my name up in your mouth like cock or gingivitis when every rhyme becomes the official new blueprint for wannabe writers Catch a smack to the face on principle Even when I say nothing it's a beautiful use of negative space Indelibles is invincible, El-P don't forget the fuckin name Come on Columbo I know you figured this shit out, nobody sounds the same [Bigg Jus] It gives me great pleasure when true elements get together and lace the track rough enough to withstand, any type of weather If you want it I got it, chemically hemming up the seams with a poly-epoxy type of a mixture that be, fatal if you sniff it These, stupid ones pop the microdots then lean into the sound's religion, watch these styles straight box you up Coming with clean concise thoughts, penetrating patterns Not beyond your comprehension but ejected wide beyond the barrel Yo, catch the rarest glimpses of the planet once known as Earth that gravitated, before inner violence heated it up, then it burnt It be these two style slide niggaz who will rock off any beat you push Cell Therapy Down South Goodie Mob and Special Ed's The Bush It's like this, for the niggaz who got caught sleepin and didn't know It be these four actors crazy kings, worlds to revolve around CoFlow Coming at you in a blazing orange hunting vest thirty yard night scope first day of deer hunting, you got scoped out like the foreign Juss Not the type of nigga to steal any scene too long son I might lace you, leave the EP evidence and then I'm gone Slayer: The Final Command Monica: The First Night На сайте функционирует система коррекции ошибок. 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