Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song EMG , by - El-P. Song from the album I'll Sleep When You're Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.12.2019
Record label: Fat Possum, Producto Mart
Song language: English
EMG |
| We had some fire and smoke and water and that troubled us a lot |
| Now we’re marking down our prices and they’re really, really hot |
| Everything must go You wanna get on some fly shit |
| Get on some butterfly to the fire shit |
| Everything must go I wanna sell you the dream |
| I wanna watch you come apart at the seams |
| Everything must go You wanna get on some fly shit |
| Get on some butterfly to the fire shit |
| Everything must go I wanna sell you a dream |
| Heart of an altar boy molested in confession |
| Who plotted for 20 years then slit the throat of a reverend |
| And half of this thought is young vandal the system |
| Contraption of credo drift sick shit and spit at your heaven |
| I’m grabbin’my dick again |
| Foot on the wall |
| Pose down |
| I’m drinkin’that piss again |
| Back at the train hometown |
| Starscream the system |
| Ninja star the cassette deck |
| Lazerface is back in effect! |
| Focus like a worker ant live |
| Get with hive mind fly shit |
| Shut your little mind crime hybrid |
| Eyelids pinned back flat |
| We had a focus group of lab rats clappin' |
| At last you got dap |
| Automaton bells rock well from death valley |
| Shit, we all mingle in ditch |
| Mass grave for the kids |
| Clash with the combat rap set |
| A weathermen funk breath |
| The last rebels left? |
| Slide off or get the digipack slashed in your neck |
| You’re figitin’with 28 day simian |
| Yeah, dog |
| Him again |
| The bad touch destruct militant |
| Drum percussion lust diligent |
| The surface that gave birth to the style is NY |
| The jihad recipient sky is too fly |
| The roof of the witnessing spot was BK |
| A cloud of asbestos — I guess it’s d-day |
| Now you want me to move and do how you say |
| Or look into my brain through this glass toupee |
| Fuck this, how 'bout I just smack you bitch? |
| Save that 4th reich boogie for them plastic twits |
| Or the old women of fate stichin’the casket nits |
| I’ll be drunk on the back of the train takin’a piss |
| Bumpin’BDP through a raheem kit |
| With double d duracel destiny megamix like |
| Everything must go You wanna get on some fly shit |
| Get on some butterfly to the fire shit |
| Everything must go I wanna sell you the dream |
| I wanna watch you come apart at the seams |
| Everything must go You wanna get on some fly shit |
| Get on some butterfly to the fire shit |
| Everything must go I wanna sell you a dream |
| Get over here and buy, you hoe |
| Excuse me, little child |
| Why the devious smile? |
| Well, I’ve become what I’ve forsaken and the irony’s wild |
| Are you in charge of this outfit? |
| Nah, not me, cousin |
| I wrestle distinction from the chompers of a buzzard |
| Is my mommy in heaven? |
| Well, she’s definitely not here |
| Now run away and go play with this hatchet and flaming spear |
| I’m tryna mix up this molotov then peel the fuck off |
| I’ve got a windmill to tackle, son |
| Polish my gun off |
| My hot pink milimeter space heater |
| Duck down |
| Pulled out from the crevice of a triple fat duck down |
| Horse hooves and meat I’m glued to the beat — grindin' |
| Stolen hovercraft draggin’a bass stab behind it Every little phrase is designed for y’all to rewind it Every brittle phase has an expiration assignment |
| Eyes wide |
| The bad man walks alive with five dimes of sticky the bush and no 9 |
| Who was trained by Ed Koch to hop a turnstyle |
| See cop smile |
| Peep cops gun |
| Now see little juvenile me in reeboks run |
| Through the projected transformation of the catacombs, son |
| Makin’it home’s so fun |
| If you’re alone, don’t sweat |
| 'Cause you’re alone with the best |
| The underrated phrase mason who’s leakin’pain to cassette |
| If you hate lies, don’t fret |
| 'Cause I can’t lie about this |
| At least I’m honest when I tell you my mind’s full of shit |
| And sick of skippin’on electrified hop scotch grid |
| We’re double dutchin’to percussion with this barbed wire rope choker |
| The most floatinist spoke dope spit |
| Get lit |
| You’re with an ambulance chaser, I strive design sick |
| Everything must go |