Lyrics Rick Flare - The Constructus Corporation

Rick Flare

Meet Rick Flare
Self-made millionaire
Uh-huh
Eccentric investor
Extraordinaire
Yeah, that’s right
Hi there
Meet Rick Flare
Self-made millionaire
Ah
Eccentric Investor
Extraordinaire
Yeah
And they’re like 'What's that distant rumbling?'
Guess who’s coming through thunderin'
Back on the scene
Rocking his black comedy
For all you little underlings
The fully poseable mimic is a disposable gimmick
Flip shiz, manipulative coroner lyric
That gets all up in your shit
Like a chorus when I speak
I freak intense sentences
Like a judge don’t mess around
Nobody can hold me back
When I’m all up in your face, like a faulty GAT
Come on girl
Let me see you work that booty to the beat
Like a salty crack
We’re here to motivate, there’s no debate
You’re overweight
MC sounds silly
Trumpets sound
Walls come tumbling down
Cuz a-Rick Flare’s so skinny
What you doing man, you’ve released a ghost
You’ve got company
It’s a parasite
Be the host
Now you want me to stop
But fuck it, I love it
Open the cupboard
Open the cupboard
Upon from within, all over you like skins
You’re so confident you’re gonna win, fuck yeah
No doubt Rick, definitely got flare
You may be sick but definitely not scared
Meet Rick Flare
Self-made millionaire
Uh-huh
Eccentric Investor
Extraordinaire
Yeah, that’s right
Hi there
Meet Rick Flare
Self-made millionaire
Like a rejuvenating 7 day detox plan for relieving constipation
Call me the immortal penetrating mystery, and revealing transformation
My super sound’s got me bumping all kinds of unexpected shit even for me like
my play thing
Cause then I’m looking back on what just happened flat out telling myself 'It's
fuckin' amazing'
You don’t wanna play with the psychosomatic ill one, 'scuse me if you could
lyrically move, that’s not-
Me looking at a burden above my head to think about what I — what I did to you
I’m on pool (?) pitch (?) bringing the cool shit all advanced like cyborg
And these fuckin' monkeys (?) all return western imperialist bullshit
Like from Saigon to hold you (?) the signal
I’ve got millions of minus minions plugged into my miser (?)
Plus some fan-girls on my dick go: 'We love you Rick'
Now don’t slip — illuminate (?) torches (?)
Deciphering impenetrable forces
Fucking with all sorts of raucous forces
I’m lost in this following, following orders
'Who is that guy?'