Lyrics Exoskeleton - Jake Palumbo, Ruste Juxx, Tek

Exoskeleton

Deep from the depths of the dirt, I’m a demon
Terrorize your nightmares, bitch while you dreaming
J-U-Double-X, you motherf***ers next
Suplex, n***a, break your motherf****ng neck
Murder-One case-beater, walk out of court laughing
Lead shower your corpse in a blood-bathing
Vampire, nocturnal beast with it
Murder rate increasing, wack rapper deceasing
You fragile, I’m wild with that mad style
Been a bad seed, Juxx was a bad child
My enemies die slow, it’s torture
3rd degree burns on your body when I scorch ya
Sunblock, Ong Bak, elbow to forehead
Double back, reload, empty out more lead
You duck, dive, dip when I’m dumping
N****s fronting, got that shotgun pumping
HOOK:
I storm through your fortress with the force of an elephant
There’s not a b**** bone in my Exoskeleton
Two puffs of petro, my brains turn to gelatin
Grind 9 to 9, the city is all mine
If I die tomorrow, or they throw me in cuffs
I will not back down to a couple of local tuffs
So no, we won’t hang around to hear your metaphors
Get the f**k back, Jack
Stand clear of the closing doors
VERSE 2 — Jake Palumbo
Never walk with the sheep, I’m avenging the herd
You expecting Dawson’s Creek?
This Revenge Of The Nerd
Before Netflix & Chill, it was Blockbuster Nights
I used to date a White Russian up in Killa Crown Heights
Mix a White Russian out of breast milk & Nesquik
Mix a hit record on an SSL desk, quick
I’m Destro, you some Cobra Commanders
My snare drums get frequently mistaken for hammers
Beats By Palumbo, Thorazine to your Thorax
Fleetwood Mac, I cut your cocaine with Borax
Dr. Seuss flows, getting shows for 3 or 4 racks
Poet laureate for the groundlings like the Lorax
Send my mail to Gravesend, Bucktown
When my grey-haired uncle plays with guns
You should Duck Down
Ruste, Smif-N-Wessun in the SpaceLAB, what now?
Touch down, take the money & run, POW!
(REPEAT HOOK)
VERSE 3 — Tek of Smif-N-Wessun:
P***y h* wanna test I, must be ready to die
You’re f**king with the Prince of the Stuy
I’m just another great from the 718
It’s the silverback, outfit all BAPE
I point fingers & bodies drop
Leg, chest, head shots
Come thru any block
Let the Mac Milli rock
I remember days when I was at the Days Inn
Bagging up, tryna make a G before a day’s end
I never spoke that
N***a where the smoke at?
(Where the smoke at?)
40-Calli on my waist, don’t provoke Tek
I told the banker that I got that
Shoot that light s***, n***a threw a 5 and I threw 6
Ohhhhhh…
Diadora’s killed the game that’s for certain
Curtains, waves so thick that you can surf in
You see my n***as, them my n***as for life
Don’t get yours cut short
Rest in Peace Sean Price
Smoke…
(REPEAT HOOK)