Company Flow

Rugged like Rwanda, dont wind up far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti lectures on can control
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
Im much too much for any demon style to master me
From the thoughts next bridge to the hells gate, lyrically detonating
Sparking M-80s and bottle rockets its a nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the grand canyon
Emcees couldnt hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me aint easy
Im crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still aint nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics dont know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs thats crazy wack
We all cant be pimps, and we all cant rap
You got to get your dollars on cause its on like that
Heres what I want you to do
Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade Runner
When Im rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Whos here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee
[Verse Two: El-P]
Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty
Color me Maxmillian cause Im that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me
As far as Im concerned Ive got your ashes in an urn
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid
Whats your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and Ima piss it back rusty
Flesh and phonics, youre god damned right
Im on em like aeorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap OFF (*clap clap*) welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me
The witness to the shit you wanna be
DBA lyrical P known as a simp and Im a sycophant
Feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state
Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up, what bitch youre boxing shadows
Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll
Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
Youre faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
Im so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet but Id fuck Laura Ingalls only when shes done with her chores
Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when hes stressed
Im sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
Cause Im a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
BJ Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked
EP Eight stpes to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
[Verse Three: Bigg Jus]
The holy terror, last move you made cos it never wont win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
Irate when I get chinese-Jamaican like Rick Shin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys thats so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to letcha know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
They fuck up speaking cavernous when Im stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
Thats my word, you couldnt shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any type sport like the vandal
I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw
Massacre one two three youre taking and tell em
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple.
[ 8 Steps To Perfection Lyrics ]