Croup - Eardrum lyrics
Scratch Hook: While I kick facts, react on funky tracks This here is something stupid for the eardrums This is rap, for real Wanna hear something slick, son? then here it comes You know this my type of vibe. That Supa sh**! Croup! Let's rock… Verse one: It seems like my essence is fluorescent, my messages shine in the dark And my perspective, professors define this as art No weapons or records 'bout how my nine and my semi spark No techs in my dresser, just lectures from John Henry Clarke To keep my mental sharp for serpents that I cross Quick to push a weak disc jockey right off his high horse I'm spilling my feelings, real, it's nothing acrylic There ain't a liquor facility that can bottle up my thoughts Get 5 stars for my stage presence It's on caliber with the great legends, swinging the Excalibur to slay peasants Murder any track from Metallica to break records Hang all my challengers by their fake necklace You write crime novels, I speak life and recite verses that mind boggle Listeners respond “Bravo!” Brothers and sisters all over the world love to listen You barely noticed by the people in your subdivision Scratch Hook: While I kick facts, react on funky tracks This here is something stupid for the eardrums This is rap, for real Wanna hear something slick, son? then here it comes Verse two: I'm a savage or beast when attacking the average beat Like Louis jazz scatting, my patterns are rather unique This for the urban avenues and the streets, n***as with attitudes This music ain't compatible for Malibu Beach I'm Derrick Rose, your generic flows are more like Gerald Henderson I'm solo so it's me against the f**ing world scrimmaging No censoring, my supporters respect thorough penmanship You venturing into singing, hoping that girls are into it You weak dudes easy to see through as cheap j**els A bunch of punching in vocals, heavy edits, and EQ's I mistreat fools who try to sell me a beat used I kick your face in ‘til my feet's like Iron Sheik shoes I refuse to be cool and cordial with posers These corporate vultures would pimp their daughters for exposure I'm willing to sacrifice a million to have my rights Powered by my hunger, your thoughts dictate your appetite My audio recordings haunt ‘em, leave ‘em sort of shook Lyrically, I'm the iron chef, the rest are short order cooks This is gourmet seasoned frica**ee sautéed I'm the reason why your time at the top was a short stay The rawest dude in the place, who can debate? You Nightcrawler n***as talk until your blue in the face I'm one of North Carolina's indisputable greats Worldwide reputed, making my best music to date You damn straight Scratch Hook: While I kick facts, react on funky tracks . This here is something stupid for the eardrums. This is rap, for real Wanna hear something slick, son? then here it comes