Company Flow - 8 Steps to Perfection Lyrics

Verse One: Bigg Jus

Rugged like Rwanda don't wind up far or get chopped up

Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up

Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol

Organized graffiti that jizzin' can't control

Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache

I'm much too much for any demon style to master me

From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate lyrically

detonating

Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser

Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser

Open up your eyes and clean out your nature

Wide open like the grand canyon

Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon

Searching for my style like Job-Corps

Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store

But sabotaging me ain't easy

I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese

With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro

A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero

Just a small sample of the abstract

When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act

Whether shooting joints or wax

I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack

We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap

You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that

Here's what I want you to do

Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade

Runner

When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer

Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders

Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence

Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics

Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic

Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P

Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee

Verse Two: El-P

Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty

Color me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot

Teetering on the edge of outer space

Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me

As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn

Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid

What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty

Drinking water out the well of life and I'mma piss it back rusty

Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right

I'm on 'em like they're on pacemakers hooked up to clappers

Clap on, welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me

The witness to the shit you want to be

DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant

Feeding on fats passed and dipped

In and out of my invisible state

Forerunner rep tyrannical

Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical

Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel

Shoot a head up, what bitch you're boxing shadows

Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle

Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single

Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl

El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll

Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket

You're faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets

I'm so sick of recycled metaphors

Bet but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores

Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven

Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed

I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks

Cause I'm a thinker

Evil anus letting off stinkers

BJ Eight steps to perfection

The sum of each part forms an octagon

Let rhyme styles get sparked

EP Eight stpes to perfection

The sum of each part forms an octagon

Where rhyme styles get sparked

Verse Three: Bigg Jus

The holy terror, last moves you never won't win

Playing taps on a violin

You can never comprehend the rhyme origin

I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaicin like a chin

Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted

Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted

Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit

Just to letcha know, never do I use it

Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher

Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee

When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees

Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets

They fuck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it

Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose

That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math

To kick any type sport like the vandal

I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa

Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw

Massacre one two three you're taking and tell 'em

Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling

I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals

If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple