Poops - Flushed lyrics

[Intro: Pumpkinhead] Pumpkinhead: Yo [?]: Doodoo Pumpkinhead: Yeah, yo [?]: You doodoo Pumpkinhead: [?]. Go ‘head. Poops, PH, FB [Verse 1: Poops] Heavily yawn with thoughts. Emcees play the sideline Is court cheerleaders to the sport Just shout my name, all about clout and gain No man is equal, Poops and God are about the same Graphic patterns, an unusual form of rapping On mental, I'm taking over your vessel On command. For this shipment, its captain You're trapped and no escape (No escape, no escape) [Verse 2: Pumpkinhead] My flow entices the crowd and audience, squeezing mics like accordions The lyrical magician cut each round to half-sized if you chastise Giving black eyes to Hispanics, Caucasian, and black guys I rap wise, intelligent. The melanin skin tone down to the bone Burning the microphones with hot poems, poetical paralysis Inflicted on wack lyricists. It took me exactly Several minutes to write this rhyme and recite it This sh** is tight like the vagina on a virgin dyke n***as be busting their brains and saying nothing. Wannabe ragamuffin Acting tough and end up becoming turkey stuffing ‘Cause the sh** they was kicking was some hardcore roughneck black TECs on cracked steps Right by The Coliseum. I'm underground like a casket But still on top like a mausoleum [Hook: Pumpkinhead] n***as be talking sh**, drop that sh** in the toilet But them kids is wack. They get flushed (PRB) n***as be talking sh**, drop sh** in the toilet (Tenth Planet) But them kids is wack. They get flushed [Verse 3: Poops] Curtains are closed. Emcees who took it backseat before their lies Their manhood is tooken like they were sodomized Recognize the prime trained in cyphers, revolve around the 9 When I felt no presence of danger, you had your shot, look Get caught up in a chamber. Anger stranger. No wackness, in fact Kid, don't know who that is. I never saw him before in these lines of mine I doubt it would ever come around, so visit this rhyme (This rhyme, this rhyme) [Verse 4: Pumpkinhead] Lyric droid, Sci-Fi, drinking Mai Tai in Hawai'i Might I grab the M-I-C, you'd better say, “Bye bye” I'm out the night sky. My verses are colorful like tie-dye That's why my tracks are not fly—because we skydive On the real, thought. And I use that term very gently and I Step on emcees like Mr. Jefferson did Bentley, and, uh Don't miss empty, hollow-headed with the dreaded Lyric droids schizo, paranoid, fueled by unleaded Energon, your men are gone like the Pentagon Your underground intelligence is irrelevant Why should we let A&Rs at labels label us like evidence? It's evident that they want to make dollars and leave us cents On top of that, you nonsense, corny emcees puppets Fake nuggets after the first mill in your career hits the bucket [Hook: Pumpkinhead] n***as be talking sh**, drop that sh** in the toilet But them kids is wack. They get flushed n***as be talking sh**, drop sh** in the toilet But them kids is wack. They get flushed [Verse 5: Poops] In no rush, just bust, destruct in my clutch To dust, in a touch, punks are crushed to dust From a man to a gram of sand that's swept up You should have kept up. In this hurdle for simple Individuals, it was like a cheetah racing a turtle Never merciful, I feel better hurting your I'll work too. My job is done—and that's not Until my sharp sk**s leave scars on the drums [Verse 6: Pumpkinhead] Brothers be mad wack, swearing they got crazy sk**s So I make ‘em overdose without the Advil pills Lyrics rotate in a circular motion like a windmill 360, metamorph like Bill Bixby for gamma rays that k** Why is it brothers can't acknowledge my physics? Is it complex like the animation from Robotech? I walk in New York streets with the vibe tugging my crotch One of the pastimes of hip hop And you don't stop with metaphor... (Let him stop) [Outro: Pumpkinhead] Ha, yo. Yo, yo. Mad caca emcees out there and we're gonna step on you like crap. Hahahaha. It's the lab. Poops, FB, Pumpkinhead. Remember, doggie. Alright, I'm done already (PH, man)