Tame One

Tame One - Eastern Conference All Stars lyrics

rate me

(feat. Copywrite, J-Zone, Cage, Mr. Eon, (Mad) Skillz...)

Yeah, uh, Yeah, uh (Formaldyhide salmons)

Northface gooses, South Orange Avenue producers

Eastcoast is the loosest (Yeah)

West district is ruthless (Boom Squad nigg-uh!)

We leave you toothless (P-P-P)

Eastern Conference All-Stars, ah

Ghetto Stars (Like this)

[Tame 1]

The hip-hop Anthony Perkins, constantly merkin

For certain, excuse me - y'all say for sheez-ay

Dogs like me be like "We want Eazy!"

Tame 1 be talkin greasy, this became a D-Day

Burnin more rent lines than eight major freeways

My motto is 'Fuck you, don't follow'

Skirts who won't swallow, or get stunk tomorrow

Oh well, I still can't tell, you actin beat bitch

Beat it, no secret, I'll merk you half weeded

My bars are like Zanex's

Broke it down to fours, they bring down yours

Encyclopedia Brown, kick it in punk!

[Copywrite]

This no-suggresive artform, none of you bastards want it

Cuz I don't paint on a canvas, I slam rappers on it

Laughin at clowns with they demos, passin 'em out

Pass it to me, get it tossed to the trash with a smile

Bad Boy, with a long barrel that's all narrow

+Shyne+ behind bars like Jamal Barrow

You got a cast-iron stomach?

Let's see how strong it is when I cock this and blast iron from it

You flow sick, but too slow spittin your coldest

I'll come up with a cure before any symtoms are noticed

You tryin to shit on me - it's a dream

I got a way with words like alphabet soup on a triple beam

[J-Zone]

You want a free verse, your label was a joke from the start

You want a free beat then put a stethoscope to your heart

You want free dick then baby go back to your ex

You want free advice chump, shave the back of your neck

I use threats over money so deejays won't play my jams

Internet B-Boy's want to know what race I am

Black, white, or Spanish, you figure it out

Learn how to rhyme off mine and take your dick out your mouth

It's 'bout to get ill in here, so stop starin bitch

Old Man Big in there, Christina Aguilera's pimp

UPS is hiring so close the trap

Cuz my old gym techer ain't supposed to rap

[Cage]

I went to my grandmother's funeral, fucked up in a rush

Stood over that bitch, spun embalmin fluid fiendin for dust

My baby's mama taught my daughter to ask for paper

Told her Disney World blew up, so I ain't had to take her

My engineer's a dominatrix tryna master me

My outer-body experiences got dead cops after me

How my anit-pop records get played on TV?

The explaination's the same is why you hate on E.C.

So don't be alarmed when you see me and my soundman

holdin a firearm, stompin some bitches for a ???

If my ex tries to come to the show to dumb out

I'll make the crowd beat the fuck out of her 'fore I come out

[Mr. Eon]

It's Julius Err-ving, with wordsling

Mics inverting, fuck all you stupid earthlings

Y'all could shed light, if y'all were the sun

Wipe the cum off a head and take a gold off of mine

One top could never invade my paradime

See propoganda paphlets through the ascinine

Trounce with mic-stands, jump over techniques

My soul got caught up in mom's ovaries

No angel on my shoulder just two devils

Feeding chemicals, pushing blood past legal levels

It's the accomplice who's too obnoxious

To accomplish, leavin you rookie fucks astonished

[Skillz]

Yo it's the G-H the O the S-T White

A conversal with me, shit that's like talkin to fire

If you touch it it burns, and you don't wanna do that

You could talk to it all day and it won't talk back

I still battle niggas so scrap ya plans

I ain't gotta be in promotions to rap ya van

Cats 2-way me all day to deliver a hit

But I ain't writin shit down 'til they deliver some chips

If B.I.G. was here, he'd say I was "Dead Wrong"

Cuz I don't get on the radio and say verses that I said in the song

It's Mad Skillz muhfucker the V.A. don

E.C. emcee, AKA Shaquan

[Camu Tao]

All my niggas buggin out, wasted on drugs

Talk shit nigga, thug it out, ya waitin on guns

Cuz I'm a dirty nigga that likes the guts cut up

And put my hands in the heat until my fingers burn up

And pick my teeth with the remains when the bodies turn up

I'll stay rotten, stay plottin on ya bitch and her cunt

AIDS victim, stickin my bloody dick in the cup

Cuz I'm hotter than the bobbins and skillets in ya momma kitchen

I'm even hotter than the fuckin seat the Devil sits in

Cold shoulder niggas get blazed forever

And your heat'll never happen like rubbin to wet sticks together

You fags wanna fight and shoot its whatever...

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