Blowout

Lyrics for Blowout

Hail Marys get tossed. Playmakers on one knee Genuflect an inverted cross. Looks like You lost, boss. That's how the cookie crumbles Welcome to the jungle. Crush rappers Recover the fumble (First down!). The way I play, ain't no out-of-bounds. Keep swinging 'Til you stay on the ground. Keep a Pound like the Cleveland Browns. Baltimore when I'm out of town Twist up when I touch down. Rhyme Cannon never out of rounds. Win, lose, or Draw, close with raw cigar. Every- -body by the ball, lift the glass for these I-95 All-Stars. Been doing it since sax In backyards, juking squad cars on boulevards Stiff-arming security guards in Juilliard Look at the motherfucking scoreboard Look at the motherfucking scoreboard Priviledge on the mic, massive yard, flash gas Faggots need to quit rapping, take a step When shit happens like gats, you're wrapped in an ill faction Thinking you can still master top mics, shows rock Tight flows. God guys grown, you the deacon, I'm the Pastor, rhyme disaster, spit a mind-mes- -merizing, spine-tingling, bursting at Disperse. When the word's worth less than your life, murk Crushed is what you get when you cook with the crockpot I mean, the pot cooking, grub-robbing all hotspots On fan shows, we dove, freak hoes need clothes Ass out the steeple, preaching math to the people from Philly to Indonesia. Dawg, I see you when I see you like Martin told Gina. Started off in the arena. If you Want to get down with this evil, be either crushing Meters in the measure, plus I heard you're living single like spit your facts. Plus, I keep The meters intact while I'm on stage rhyming, sound Bleeding through your speakers like a hemophiliac, slice Leaking on the sneakers. For all these cats who wanna Scream on receivers, start it off if you Wanna harness the prowess. Smack Emcees like baby powder (Uh, uh) It's the ladies hour (You nah'mean?). Come Receive my baby showers (What? Yeah) Victory slid through my hands. Back on The run like the Taliban, brass bands Dirty Dozen, village of the damned hatching Plans. Fuck Afghanistan. Colt Two'll be on 125 with an M1 Garand Kickstand Cannondale, Uncle Sam Drawing lines in the sand with Iran. I got a bird In the hand—the fuck I need two grams? A Bush, shove comes to push, shove comes to Push. When they came for the jewels, you said Nothing. When they came for the Muslims too You said nothing, so don't call my crew when it's Your spot they're rushing