El-P - 8 Steps to Perfection lyrics

[Verse 1: Bigg Jus] Rugged like Rwanda Don't wander 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 in can control Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache I'm much too much for any demon style to master me From the Throgs Neck Bridge to the Hell's Gate Lyrically detonating Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a n***a chaser Downtown graffiti deface a h**n debaser Open up your eyes and clean out your nature Wide open like the Grand Canyon Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon Searching for my style like Job-Corps Comin' home on work release shoplifting at the rap store But sabotaging me ain't easy I'm crooked like Nathan Wind starring as Cochese With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero Just a small sample of the abstract When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act Whether shooting joints or wax I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that Here's what I want you to do n***as with the green Acs and burgundy 4Runners, inhuman like Blade Runner When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer Transistor blister feedback freak the impedance Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics Check the rhyme activity your sk**s is microscopic Peace to my crew and my n***a El-P Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee [Verse 2: El-P] Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty Call me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot Teetering on the edge of outer space Spitting buckshots til black holes surround me, you found me As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid What's your conjunction Tracks is type dusty Drinking water out the well of life and I'm a piss it back rusty Fresh ebonics, you're goddamned right I'm on 'em like aorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers Clap off Welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me The witness to the sh** you wanna be DBA, lyrical P, burners insipid, I'm a sycophant Feeding on fats pa**ed 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 b**h you're boxing shadows Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle Breaking your double helix, and now the sh** is single Not mono, I burn the needle out your phono El-P the third gunner on the gra**y knoll Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket You're f*ggot like Sprockets, motherf** the Houston Rockets I'm so sick of recycled metaphors Bet but I'd f** Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks Cause I'm a thinker Evil an*s 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 3: Bigg Jus] The holy terror, last move you made was an error, you never won't win Playing taps on a violin You can never comprehend the rhyme origin I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaican like a chin Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted n***as came and a**ed out my tracks and left 'em sh**ted f** the movement, lubricate the smooth sh** Just to letcha know, never do I use it Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cypher Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets They f** up speaker cabinets when I'm stabbing it Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math To kick any type sport like the vandal I manhandle emcees get murdered like Tenor Saw Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chainsaw Ma**acre, One Two Three, The Taking of Pelham 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