Tom Houlton - Tiger-Style lyrics

[Intro: The Etherealist] Yo, History of Violence Murder on the f**ing Dancefloor Representing ABQ: Rodney Rush Representing the UK: Oldboy Tear this f**ing mic apart, dawg [Verse 1: Oldboy] It's the Corellian flying Millennium; contact with aliens ET and Elliott; your telly news is irrelevant Master of many elements with a revered eminence Your verse is feminine: spoken word with sentiments Gentlemen, please make way for the mental son As I enter and step in the centre, I'm dropping [?] bombs It's like clockwork; your style of rhyme does not work I'm hotter than the centre of the Earth with every verse Disperse words, serve hurts; perfect, superb verbs Never conserve words; I'll leave your nerves hurt You're a pervert: Family Guy Mr. Herbert Never touching the bourbon: only poison from [?] f** urban; I'm subversive and dead certain Any emcee who steps up, it's f**ing curtains Just south of the Wall in the North is where I'm lurking More imposing in person than the BT Local serpents [Verse 2: The Etherealist] It's the first-born warrior, the curse-lord foreigner Force you to the depths of the Earth, like Mines of Moria I'll slaughter ya, pull your sh** out all through your neck You's a f**ing wreck. b**h, you dial-up: you don't connect You best respect: it's Ether on the mother-f**ing trizzack Got more rhymes under my belt than rocks of crizzack I been that beat blaster, a f**ing disaster In battle, I kick more a** than a grand master I'll smash ya, a mechanical lyrical cannonball I'll make you wish for f**ing d**h like you was Aaron Paul The ghost of Harrenhal, kick your a** through the Moon Door You sound like you been taking your rap lessons from Hodor You and your fat b**h like Gorillas in the Mist When I'm pissed, I'll slit your sh**ting wrist. The Etherealist is A genius like GZA. My finger's on the trigger I'll leave you with less dick than a f**ing action figure [Verse 3: In2ition] b**hes find my smile vile; still ask me to stay awhile I be working Tiger-Style; my stacks be unbelievable HOV feature Rodney Rush; what the f** be up with us? Oldboy now be linked to us; do all this while staying hushed To sink in this game, we'd have to die or be mamed Our names are linked to this space; in all our holes, there's an ace Haters be hating our case cause we do it all with such grace The rest of the rap rat-race can't do this pace: slow down! In2ition be lingering in the ether; who's better, neither We both as sick as each other; we don't take a breather Be stabbing rappers in the back like they Caesar; only difference is they don't see us We're teasers. We blast, we causing seizures; we been cast as the best We're better than the rest, so don't ask, just accept. Feel our wraths But feel blessed that at last we have a music contrast that surpa**es the past Which we pa**ively use to wipe our a**es [But wait a minute cause we get in it for the ma**es] [Verse 4: Rodney Rush] (Rodney Rush: your boy, man) (Break Bad on 'em, homie. You already know) What comes to mind, well it's beautifully poetic A stone has been cast to the ma**es; the ma** is heavy Ma** hysteria only blinds the people who don't get it Bet it's headed for your mind: don't let it People try to slow me down; my rhymes break levees I'm a finisher. Product of the game: check the credits I'm gone fill my bank account up; yes, debit I don't want a dollar unearned: no credit Why? When I got sk**s to fill the ozone with it Touch-down: catch me in the end zone grinning Celebrating the score while the hunger for more enters I'm sitting here digesting while focused on your dinner I'm a beast to say the least; I'm gone leap: don't quiver While gnawing on your bones, the medicine man enters I'm cold like shutting off the heat mid-winter Or like taking over souls and sending bodies down rivers [Outro: Rodney Rush] I think we gonna get along well, man I have a history of violence too, ya dig? Big-up to your boy Jak Noble; you already know You reach out man, sometimes you get what you want in life I'm Rodney Rush, AKA Combo, and I'm with that History of Violence Break Bad on 'em, homie Tiger-Style. f** it: Lion-Style. f** it: Liger-Style I'm just f**ing witch'all. Much love though Rodney Rush: your boy, man Never stop grinding. Get yours, man