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the cenobites - kick a dope verse lyrics
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kick a dope verse and then we ghost
i got a brand new ford, bright orange-yellow pickup truck
cruising around like i’m johnny esposito
pumping my funk tape with stretch and b bobbito
looking around for that kid who robbed joey, oh he
catch another rapper rhyme slowly
in the back of your head feel the calico m-o
you know the x, hey hey, he’s out the hospital
he played a trumpet in cl-ss, plus he had a fiddle
he had a house uptown on green apple road
a human body buried monkey plus a little toad
scared federal bureau, f-ck investigation
no phones, no beeps, f-ck communication
i like ice cream kids, i like carvelle
i read comics and books, yeah marvel
you want to step mc’s, i’m in the bas-m-nt
hold up mirrors to h-ll, where your face went?
i walk quiet at night, through the projects
maybe one night look through your peephole, peekaboo!
i got a gift for you, to f-ck santa claus
open your door, face the cen0bites light
i want the matrix of mad, i’m like h-llraiser
(who could i be?)
(hook x4)
kick a dope verse and then we ghost
bobbito and yes i got the props
now will you crab–ss n-ggas just hop off my c-ck
my style’s en vogue, you’re never gonna get it
phonetic, kenetic, energetic flows your ears in a tourniquet
wrapped tightly, my raps just might be
unsightly, or slightly gruesome
some groups are done, some groups run
many groups come, when bob beats are spun
stun by the stun gun, you’re chewing my d-ck gum
i stick it in your nose so kids can ridicule like catholic school
second grade, mrs. flaherty had a tragedy
she saw me bust a nut it was flattery
now i recharge my battery
flattery gets me where i’m going, lets me know i’m flowing
sets me when i’m boning
sh-t, people asks me who writes for me
i write my own sh-t from finish to start
diminish the heart, i eat a knish and then i fart
a traskit, a triscuit, a golden-eared biscuit
kool keith asked me to rhyme and so i kicked it
nervous, served this, never even heard this
leave a he-rs- wordless, because i just served this
stretch armstrong, my man, my mellow
my godfather don, get on the mic and say h-llo
it’s kind of pertinent that the venom i send ’em
will give ’em an enema, then i’m a prove my sh-t is funkier than
yours, when wars bend laws to make n-ggas figure
i can’t rap, i play it undercover and plant that
one word you heard no other say
and the nut i lay to impregnate wombs to tombs
of larvae, insects to dissect from the ribcage
to the solar, remember the scene of my brain make
you shake and so when i hold a microphone steady
-sniff sniff- give me five if you’re ready
to go on the collision course and send it
when i mental with light jeans don’t read names
i’m illiterate, consider it ripped, stripped, flipped, kicked
then shredded, so say “cheese” when you pictured yourself imbedded
headed to the fate of n-ggas spraying rhymes
like mace, terrible, i’m esoterical when i’m tearing through
myriads of methods and sh-t, i never do
i left it to kool keith, bobbito, full of libido
for the girls who need-o eight inches of tounge to eat-o, hey
kind of neato, so check it out
peace, hollito
(hook x4)
kick a dope verse and then we ghost
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