Lyrics Fire - eLZhi, Black Milk

Fire

What I put down in the sound coil is Crown Royal
It’s like I dug in the ground, soil, and found oil
I’m known to terrorize, paralyze a pair of guys or prepare to rise off the land,
sea, air, and skies
Snatch his heart, but spare his eyes
To show him why I’m great, violate, and I annihilate
My punchlines ain’t just tossin' jabs, they often grab to put you in a Boston
Crab
Caution, they say I’m psychosomatic in the attic
My automatic stick to my clothes like static
-cling on, better kiss the fist while the ring’s on
On the winning hand, four aces, now a king’s drawn
What, how you want it, head or gut?
Let it cuts from the machete, you’re not ready
Check, 1−2 and you don’t stop
For niggas frontin', I get you open till the buttons on your coat pop
It’s that fire, I see the smoke rising high up
Hit higher, hands to the sky up
Spit fire, no, can’t deny us, they getting lava
Cause it’s that fire, I see the smoke rising high up
Get 'em, get 'em up, get 'em high up
Get a cup, let me see, see you light up, they getting lava
Cause it’s that…
Demand the respect, the effects could heat the room
Full of fans in the deck, got my hands on the tech-nology
It’s a little too late for an apology, a style from me got more star quality
than astrology
EL is the name
Spit that shit that’s so fire, it can dance around hell as a flame
Who nicer than me?
You ain’t worth the price of the tea, in China
You a vagina enticin' to be fucked
I’m stuck in the spirit form, my brain mirror store 'em
Speak my mind, hear it swarm, now a lyric’s born
I write a masterpiece
Better than my last release, cooler than the cast of Grease
Burn a nigga to the ash at least
You couldn’t get signed in a cast, surviving then crash in peace
Back the fuck up
Get it nigga?
Back the fuck up, before you get attacked, smacked, hijacked,
and stuck up
I am hot shit, a stand-up nigga, I do not sit
SWAT’s hitting alerted, they heard I got the spot lit
Think deep, how deep?
Deeper than a plot get
In a novel, with a pen, I tend to boggle
Now feel the kiss of death when you spin the bottle
Don’t have to send a hollow tip with others in the clip to follow
The man with the pen is illing when he’s into spilling again, been as healing
as penicillin
If your body can suck and inhale
And blow out, then no doubt, probably not fucking with eL
In this genre, full of politics, chicks, and ganja
Find the one who signed ya, and murk him in his recliner
My words could kill a man much more than a kilogram
Of coke, once spoke, shit can hit the ceiling fan
Cause in the booth I hear the siren calls
When I inflame off four entire walls with fireballs