Doo Wop

(albüm: The Cutting Room Floor 3 - 2013)

[Blu:]
Yo, ah, spokes, spinning gold, hunnerds folding
Hunnerd folds, rocking golds, stunting
That some swolle' hunnerds
Like they wasn't though, push that other though
Summer zone, stuck on a stone
Rubbing the rabbits foot, fattened by that fish
Fathom
Full as fuck, like a Woolly and a phantom
In its mammoth mouth
Mix the fly fragrance with the Jasmine
Feeling passionate, passing by Pappy's
In a Caddy frog, big-body Buick banging Dilla Dog
Lost in the thorns, almost cost him his arm
Super scrolls off the block with the charm
Blew his nose on a cloth made of yarn
Cool collected and calm
Should have been [?]
Long nights had you looking at dawns
Could he be wrong? And the energy
Feeling like the moon and me was meant to be
Left the day jealous like the sun doesn't visit him
You kidding me B? I'm where that chemistry peaks
Between wind and water, rich off calligraphy leaves
Written like...

[Killer Ben:]
Welcome to the Terrordome
Gold herringbone flow
Shell-toe Geronimo, domino bro'
Magical, moment of zoning
Dollar rate, scholar slate
You can't tolerate with, what I consolidate
You fucking with me, that's a myth that I just dominate
The Death Star shade of black
Barricade, bury your bus
Fade your area with various thrusts
The most dangerous, dangling diamond
Foreign languages hang with us, bang with us
Clap up your halo, sprinkle the angel dust
Solid stone, polished chrome
Saturday night special, I came to bless you
Unless you wanna get into some gangster
Do the math, I'm something Middle-Eastern
I'm a iron skillet, with hot grease, popping pieces
Rocking my sneakers on top of speakers
Cop a feature, and stop leaching
My dialog, dietary law requires for you to just
Go and jump off the deep end

[Planet Asia:]
My crisis, robbed twice
The Stock Market talking crisis
I'm not a Pisces, I keep Aquarius advisors
The nicest, burning the baggy tops off the cyphers
No need to test the vest
There's no scales weighing these mices
Iron Flag fortune, brown bag, fortieth lunches
Y'all niggas lunching, like roasted ducks posted in ovens
I am flag money in the glad bag
Stretching ironclad, iron bag mic-jack low
Flashing the pistol, spazz
Green Cee-Lo, Elohim, cream Emo
I reload, throw Cee-Lo, hear, see no evil
Cobain credo, elope the Pope smoke his meat loaf
Bury the weed toast
We under siege, bleed East-Coast
And shorty deepthroat, be on her knees
Green Peacoat