LYRICS STRAIGHT FROM CADENCE WEAPON
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Say you spray the nina when you’re Fey like Tina||
Quit the sick talking, you’re KidzBopping, so Float On||
Hip-hop is so on, can’t miss it in the sitcoms||
And a big problem arises when it’s me that supersizes||
Who’s riding, who’s rising, and who’s writing about it?||
There’s more than one bible if you’re into soundwaves||
Nowadays, I’m LIVE-ING, oh I mean living in the LIVE||
Form of stagewide performance and no, it ain’t WISE||
To ever put a hooker on a chorus||
Keep your brain wet on the cut like a swordfish||
Street kids lived in bars, half-orphans||
A crew that needs five mics, what you doin’, tryna Source us?||
Well, you see how that went and I Wendt like George did||
To where everybody knows my name||
Usually not my born one, but the short sons and tall daughters||
Don’t bother to do much more than pour bottles||
It’s silly how they get, bro||
All rappers talk about is their condition like Lenny from Memento||
Heart made of arson, try to play me? Don’t start, son||
Beats on the daily like Carson||
Beats so they play me on Carson or do I mean Leno||
No, Co-nan, cut it out, get with the program||
For as long as I’ve lived, I’d say I’ve been a boss there||
Don’t try to play me out, it’s just not renaissance fair||
I’m a costume baller, dressed like a grown-up||
I’m a weather balloon that just got blown up||
I told the homie Jon, they ain’t albums, just records||
We don’t play chess, only play checkers||
He hears my songs and later wants to see the verses||
So I hang with The Idiot like I was Ian Curtis||
The boy likes your hair, but why do you wear||
A buckle in your tresses, please explain it to me, Jess||
LYRICS STRAIGHT FROM CADENCE WEAPON ++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Say you spray the nina when you’re Fey like Tina|| Quit the sick talking, you’re KidzBopping, so Float On|| Hip-hop is so on, can’t miss it in the sitcoms|| And a big problem arises when it’s me that supersizes|| Who’s riding, who’s rising, and who’s writing about it?|| There’s more than one bible if you’re into soundwaves|| Nowadays, I’m LIVE-ING, oh I mean living in the LIVE|| Form of stagewide performance and no, it ain’t WISE|| To ever put a hooker on a chorus|| Keep your brain wet on the cut like a swordfish|| Street kids lived in bars, half-orphans|| A crew that needs five mics, what you doin’, tryna Source us?|| Well, you see how that went and I Wendt like George did|| To where everybody knows my name|| Usually not my born one, but the short sons and tall daughters|| Don’t bother to do much more than pour bottles||
I got a new religion, well, don’t read into it|| In fact, don’t read, don’t write, don’t type|| Don’t hype, don’t prop, don’t talk, don’t bite|| Don’t don’t, you won’t won’t make it double negative|| Another relative, the long line of open-minded intelligence|| With phallic mic stands and exhausted right hands|| Hey, I’m just kidding, I’m Jason Kidding around|| Like my wife beats me up, my mistress takes me down|| Good clean fun from the last arbiter of sound|| And I talk in dirty personal possessive pronouns|| Now sit, it used to be I Wanna Be Your Dog|| But now it’s Who Let The Dogs Out?, you wanna call out|| Big red hands, I’m nuclear fallout|| Stall now, die later, stick to me like fly paper|| Time and date, no time to date, this goes out to crime makers|| And shine takers, with water a la flambé|| In their veins||
It’s silly how they get, bro|| All rappers talk about is their condition like Lenny from Memento|| Heart made of arson, try to play me? Don’t start, son|| Beats on the daily like Carson|| Beats so they play me on Carson or do I mean Leno|| No, Co-nan, cut it out, get with the program|| For as long as I’ve lived, I’d say I’ve been a boss there|| Don’t try to play me out, it’s just not renaissance fair|| I’m a costume baller, dressed like a grown-up|| I’m a weather balloon that just got blown up|| I told the homie Jon, they ain’t albums, just records|| We don’t play chess, only play checkers|| He hears my songs and later wants to see the verses|| So I hang with The Idiot like I was Ian Curtis|| The boy likes your hair, but why do you wear|| A buckle in your tresses, please explain it to me, Jess||