Earl Sweatshirt - Elimination Chamber lyrics

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Earl Sweatshirt - Elimination Chamber lyrics

[Verse 1: Domo Genesis] Yo, um, yo Oh-so-co*ky, you can't stop me in this old Versace n***a watch me in the streets like it's roller hockey Your b**h is floppy, givin' sloppy while she call me papi Takin' the doggies right to the face like she Kobiyashi You n***as' flow is washy, I'm gettin' mines dry cleaned Tight seam, it might seem, I'm sellin' b**hes pipe dreams Hi fiends, I'm back with a bag of them packed white things My nikes clean, I see these n***as hatin' through my ice blings I'm a bad motherf**er, I ain't use a rubber Super lover, so soon you say hello to your newest brother The truest colors what I bleed, but you ain't seen enough of n***a leakin', you gon' have to go see the deacon you stupid s**a Young Dom, say you old n***as should wrap it up You wack, focus back on the craft, you hardly rap enough The fattest blunt and d**h to that pop-hop, I ain't ask for much And stop askin' for the collabs cause all you ba*tards s** [Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt] This that thirty deep, it's Saugus sh**, fire starter, squadron Dodgin' coppers since, ask her why she droppin' cuz, it's probably cause He prodigious, pay the rent easy, leave the bank cheesy And ba** leave your face greasy, artisan, paint easy Thick bristle type n***a on a b**h steez Stanzas diesel like Vic Tanny on a fritz, whoops System overload, itchin' for a foe to poach Spittin' like the engine on a motherf**in' motorboat Gold glisten under overcoat, missin' all Affection for these n***as, redirectin' all these n***as Very literal, type to sip the Mickeys out of cereal Drunk and drivin', twisty, how he inked up in the swimming pool? Hundred stand against me, I'm a menace void a villain, sue me Drivin' into fences cause I hit the whip a little woozy b**h I'm busy cruisin' 'Scuse me [Verse 3: Vince Staples] Can't even walk up in the church without these n***as tryin' to testify I live to die, better that than to live a lie I rap better than most these rap veterans Hard-headed and hopeless, hope that God let us in Momma didn't wanna give birth to a n***a Should've murdered a n***a, I'm a cancer to the youth Automatics out the roof, 380 with the weave in it On site, scary as prom nights with Carrie Or car rides with Berry, that's Halle not Brent Shootin' like Brent and his brother, doin' what daddy had did n***as want Grammys and sh**, that's funny to me Cause since the first take it's been about money to me I'm just tryin' to get what Diddy got, doing what got Biggie shot They told me that I wasn't sh**, but left me in a litter box Give it up and get a job [Verse 4: Action Bronson] Uh, get a job b**h I'm like the boss from the end of the Nintendo game My brain is on another level, I can feel the Devil's pain Only address me by my reverend name: the good doctor The good author, good brain in a good Porsche Dancin' drunk in dress pants like I'm a hunk Backflip in a jacuzzi, forty floors inside the Trump Front-flip into this high yellow Chinese b**h's rump Then she make me chicken broccoli for lunch I roll a joint like a Motumbo arm- I'm high cousin Every time I roll the dice it's five hundred When I order wine, it's nine hundred, French chefs kneel before me End of story take a shorty to the sortee That's the bathroom, you already know what happens there I pull my swimming trunks down, she s** me through the boxer While I'm wearin' flip-flops sh**'s real, grip the wheel, lift steel That's it Woo, f** yeah, hello Fan fare, bravo, encore Thats' a wrap