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Another Wu​-​Tang Comparison

from Nigger Rigged Time Machine by Tomorrow Kings

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lyrics

C.S. :There goes another Wu-tang comparison. Watch what you say. Who brain do I put this arrow in?
Popular today dude's sanging and Christmas caroling. We bring the game change. New Palin and Woody Harrelson. Shoot this in your veins and your head will spin. This plays while they gang bang Marilyn. 75th and Eggleston, Kingston and Maryland. Where Lil' Ricky's got a gun. Bang bang Aerosmith. We'll sleep when Meek spills and 2 Chainz hangs himself again. This song is way filthy. You can smell the stench, corroded bodies of those who tried me, inhaled this wrench
That’s what you get. You and your dogs on that Alka-Seltzer binge. Cooperstown special. Let me know when you have brain cells to pitch. Might be the son of Roger Troutman. Nigga, back up off me! My golden talkbox will show you how to zap a zombie. It also doubles as a water gun, acid Tommy. Space invaders trying to eat my neighbors. Laser blasting shawty.

W.J.T.G: Jabberwocky. Slap a honkey. Tonka rap, trunk crap. Clap a donkey. Bonk back. Yo, that nigga twacking. I don’t understand it. Granted that the evidence was planted in the planet and we planned it. Parenthood. Can’t stand when the commandment is what we would not, what you could stop, what you should? Pop shit. What you can do? Not be microscopic. We rock shit ready. Bebop Rocksteady. Shred a 10 percenter to placenta. Slang an 85er Krang for survival. When the side of your crib gets tanked with a battering ram you’ll make omelets and scramble like Eli Manning or the marching band from Grambling. This ain’t the team you should be gambling against. If it makes dollars the wackiness will be past tense. We definitely ain’t common so this shit might not make sense, nigga. Please stop it. Why is you acting real dense?

G7: Get my Ghostface on, nigga. Get my nerdy on, trigger. Gamble in the face of a rapper, charge a tariff if he flinch when the razor fly to his dome, cycling like a ninja star that shine brighter than you when it tear through your doo.You thought I would rhyme crew? Dumb ass get swiped like bus pass. No game. Hugging the wall like arachnids. Get showed up in a showdown, you drop like Chicago Black kids with crack gigs. Cross your name out. Flip your tag like your bitch on my church floor with the dick deeper than DMX in an in-store. Who want to kick war off? I'm the geek ghetto God incarnate in labs mixing jabs. Who want to spar with the chemist that miss ribs like Adam? Forgot I gutted your chest. Get blasted with a gash grafted with pigeon flesh. You fly as elliptical wings, can't get the fuck up. Aim and bust nuts in your slut. Touch luck. Duck as my moon blackens and my tongue busts shots. I'm evil like the D but Elzhi would die in the Chi and he's excellent. So our skill must be immaculate weapons to blow MCs into dissections before attack is even mentioned. Bury you in the Maya ruins. Finito.

M.E.: This shit get deep, so roll yo sleeves and yo sox up. Fake niggas get knocked like Whack-o-mole when they pop up. Lock load and flow like I been puffin a dutch. When I’m off of the cuff you’d swear I was off of the dust. Im a rockin’ rolla universal soul controller/ Novus sortem seclorum sorter freedom supporter of any order you could choose. I kick the truest news middle finger to who is whos. Muggin’em mean like who is you. Rocking that super sluthey ooze shout out to my whole foolie crew doing do’s. Smacking shorties til they booty bruised and she screams I’m one brutal dude. Exercising dominion like a king was meant to. So don’t make me get rid of you cause that written shit was pitiful. Metaphor versus literal. Keep fucking with generals who off principal break shit down the mineral. And it’s a safe bet shit gone get critical. Analog to digital. 100 no fictional washy wishy bitchy crews get abused im so sick of you. You softer than an interlude watch how we end a dude.

I.B.: I'm on that jigsaw lift off. Clip stars through Gauls. Piss stalls on all then raw dog your blog. Mounted top tic off. Kick walls on pawns eating out the belly of a fabricated Rick Ross. Trick y’all with smarts. Big Dog, you’re lost. Out of seen palette schematics get your shit toss. Drape off of course ‘cause Allah is God. Found ‘em in the trench. Sword hit ‘em like a guitar. Spit hard or crawl on all fours or mauled. Hall call for wars that never start cause us. Track stars get mobbed. We'll boguard your yards, then call all y'all boys and booby trap the lawn. Tom Tom or John, we bomb Dons or Cons. Snap back your plaques and packs gats with Jazz. You Sinbads ass. Your pen tag has pass. Sent back your cash and then we grabbed the stash.

credits

from Nigger Rigged Time Machine, track released December 3, 2013
Produced by vyle.
vylevylevyle.bandcamp.com

license

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tags

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