El-P

El-P - Smithereens (Stop Cryin) lyrics

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(feat. Hangar 18)

Fell asleep late, neon buzz

PTS stress, we do drugs

City air strange, sticky lungs

Mayor Doomburg gives no funds

And I'm crying

Call out with a fiendish ring

Broken into smithereens

Everything's exactly how it seems

And it would seem that I am crying

In a world super duper whores the kids just want a little more

Little tycos do the bloody mind sex with a veteran's decor

And I'm crying

So when I step in the stop frame I became pure BK

'Cause I grew up on the krazy kings and inhaled second hand spray

And I'm crying

Where the walls talk your defiances and alliances were made

With a fugitive dash after class to harass the gods of fame

And I'm crying

And the goons that I collude with on this rude shit same way

And will break a crab down in public just to manipulate their pain

And I'm crying

Why should I be sober when god is so clearly dusted out his mind?

With cherubs puffing a bundle tryna remember why he even tried

Down here it's 30% every year to fund the world's end

But I'm broke on atlantic ave tryna cop the bootleg instead

Pure savage established hard rock talk circa '93 proof

Walked the high road to infinity with simily truant moves

When the wandering ration line derails, I steal food

Maybe tread where the sidewalk hawks look alive and hide tools

On a bed that someone else made

Tryna wait for the next boot

And it drops when you took prime-time hellemundo off mute

Old folks say "time to build"

But demolition pays more loot

Rip patch from your hazmat suit

Slip past with an odd bop (woop!)

El-Producto, sorta strange

They say he stares at you, long range

Perhaps he's looking past us all with his thousand yard gaze

And I'm crying

And he sees how MC's became contorted with their own lives

And went from battle rap to gun talk

Like we ain't notice the change (yeah, right)

It's the city I broke down in

The velour couture township

Where they lost the rock box batteries and forgot how shit was founded

And I'm crying

Critics all see me twisted

They don't get my whole existence

An actual b-boy brainiac who'll slap you out your mittens

And I'm crying

Now, I feel that motherfuckers owe me dap for contributing actual raps

That's not a construct for the radio on that plasticince path

I'll be your homie

Bust through the dolby lonely

All cast aside and homely

Wildly pour chrome eat of vigilante words

Insert hurt in a dome-piece

And the last of all I have is yours, now surrendered nice and calmly

As a tot played on a block of bricks and double dutched with the zombies

I'll rip your squad in nothing but a cock ring a pair of puerto-rock dunks

I built the bag that cats will drown in when the water's colored rust

And the last thought that I had in the back of the little bus

Was of a Oklahoma city flair through kiddy flesh, fade to dust

Move me with, little soldier bitty

We'll cloak and dagger the city

We'll hope to stagger magnificence till the pattern of blasphemy's quitting

And I keep my meaning tucked deep so y'all creepers give me some privacy

Don't ask for something literal from a child of secrety society

There's a position to be filled, you fucking assholes

Keep your eye on me

But save your precious advice

'Cause all my life everyone's lied to me

And I'm crying

Fell asleep late, neon buzz

PTS stress, we do drugs

City air strange, sticky lungs

Mayor Doomburg gives no funds

And I'm crying

Call out with a fiendish ring

Broken into smithereens

Everything's exactly how it seems

And it would seem that I am crying

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