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language arts crew - the last letter كلمات الأغنية

[hook: samples] (x4)
“breaking these fools down to the last letter” – rasco’s “the un-ssisted”
“wild on the streets, i try to maintain” – havoc on mobb deep’s “survival of the fittest”

[verse 1: benny medicina]
infected. we poisonous—my poison is the strange sh-t
but once we [let her in?] around the mic and then rock it [?]
of course it’s hype. you [mergers?], pay attention ‘til you fortified
and realize this business just one-sided like a quarter pipe
your overbite is o-v-e-r—over the top
it’s the e-n-d of your life when it slows to a stop
it’s inadequate—this’ll describe my style without a adjective
time is money in this f-cking business, so handle it
so take this sh-t to the bank an armored car
and park it alongside to the sky—we shoot to the stars
we came together as a crew from the starts—we true to the parts
we chew through the bark, get to the seed and it grew from the heart
it’s invincible. it’s time the state of ridicule get into you
smashing out your chorus, fast-forward through your interlude
the breaking news is you just losing face up in the middle
aiming for the stage to rid an open mic—this ain’t to get you

[verse 2: vric enoh]
i deal with a glyphic arrangement, temperature raising
slip in the bed of the mess we’re making
[k!ll ‘em and k!ll?] over concrete and dropped y’all to floppy
[rot/rock?] like [robbing robbie?], got no love of the miller but hottie
hostile, combo kamikaze like your metal origami
taking a picture—snap! picture this, picture that. your picture’s wack
bring it a couple of steps back and -n-lyze the plan or path
you lack the knack to hack the letter fashion past the average rap
the aftermath is laughing. [?] in panama
i’m locking graphic battle raps just like in a p-ssion to leave these walls crushed
walls just slammed with the [hands of?] a walnut dsfdssdf you not, son
a trip like oxycontin. give it a minute, diminish your plot, dun
you paint like you’re blind and your toy is a pop gun
mr. milton bradley, hasbro, and mattel
your crew is parker-brothers-level elementary sk!ll
step and let it chill, cut to feel and let your letters build
before i pour a cl-ssic, jack, and let my letters still k!ll

[verse 3: clint westwood]
i’m breaking these fools down beyond the atomic bonds of molecules
what’s wrong with you and the motley crew that fathered you?
i often feud with the thoughtless miniscule and skewer the nonsense
and my object intolerance ridicule with the obvious
an audience consist of the mostly moderate, lost soul conglomerate
following the parliament that sponsors it
i’m marveling kids [with the carpenter’s wood/when they copping this weird?], rocking hard hits
with the large grip and bombs in my fist
my heart spits an army of darkness. my party didn’t start this
we hardly embark through the hardships
it’s far from finished—we’re in deeper than the crypt keeper
don’t fear the reaper—we’re a step ahead of death’s demeanor
h-ll’s swelling well below my sh-lltoes, but we throwing elbows
and blows to the domes of low fellows
we roll mellow in a h-ll of game
eyes open wide. wild on the streets, we try to maintain

[verse 4: qs zeus]
yo, what’s the issue? this ignorance flipping it asthmatic
yo, that’s tragic. you rapping too fast to p-ss static
i’m being rational, but you lack preciseness
the nicest mc on the streets without a license
no record deal but i rep it still ‘cause my life is
developed ill but the dollar bill keeps my priceless
but we can wheel, reap the cheaper thrills when i speak to k!ll
people still searching to feel—people, they keep it [leal?]
combat—we be the bigger boys to fracture
contact—we using fuller force to capture
the whole thing, i spit it dirty like close aim
peep the pro’s game—we be committed with no shame
and if you’re close range, you be in danger of team tough
make your knees bust. scheming on us? we leave you crushed
blaze on these blunts. maybe you’ll even be rapping better
and in three months, we’ll see what you’ve done with your latter letter

[outro: clint westwood]
i live down the street in dirty virginia. the party’s at my home

- language arts crew

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