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Go Figure
Dual Core feat. More or Les, Ghettosocks & Timbuktu
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
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I got 26 plans, but we'll start with the "A" game --
injecting different methods to your brainwave's mainframe.
Like "Yo, dog", Inception is profound,
we heard you like rap, we came back with a better sound.
Kids making noise, we make waves they wouldn't fathom,
they micromanage, while we split the atom.
Prime factors, design patterns,
turning vision into fusion, everyone rewinded backwards.
File captured, we just invite rappers
so we can kill the ratios on all the private trackers.
Upload the utmost, P2P cutthroats . . .
Uh-oh! We didn't allocate enough floats!
Have a number! This isn't a crash by fast leaners,
this is Asperger's rap-murder: Dual Core and Backburner.
Call us callous, but you don't have to act sore,
we spit 'em a bit of the rhythm and finish 'em, givin' 'em what they asked for.
I can see it inside your face:
you wanna download this shit for free and that's great, but . . .
don't be a jerk 'bout it, get merch' and mirth outta us
at shows fo' sho', tout it at Frozen Ghost. Status
updates for fixates, just in case you don't know
'bout the flavor: takes up 6/8ths of your disk space
and requires a processor core (dual), more
sudo than the break and batter attacks your
used to hearing out rappers' mouths,
that'll cancel more poodle puddles than "Top Dog",
not robbed or to get scuttled,
along what you got, we are not amigos,
your styles out of phase like a Chroniton torpedo.
Freaks are here, a hell in grim space,
with a Kremlin taste, fan of mace,
turn and cop a look into a Gremlin face.
Pourin' water all over this shit,
now I'll just multiply and take over your town in a jiff.
If your sayin' I'm the best, then you're statin' the obvious.
Vacate, change lanes, make way -- I'm bombing 'em.
Knock the ball out the park and wave to the audience.
You in the crowd tryin' to start a wave in the audience.
So confident, spent a day up in Parliament;
the Right say I'm fascist, the Left say I'm Communist.
Roll through the hood in PJs made by Nautical,
wrapped in the Yoga mat your babe does pilates on.
Now, we don't talk the same (like a homonym),
Spielberg and Shyamalan stay at my momma's crib.
Want me in their movies, way to get the dollars in,
I said "Will, it's OK, your son can play the Karate Kid."
Million miles translates to kilometers,
I be to rap what skateboard to ollie is,
My crew be to dope heatwaves to thermometers,
and bitch be to you like Janeway to Romulans.
Yo! Tall drunk and handsome, loaded like banana clips,
fan of Bruce Banner and my man, Al Yankovic.
I'm Pete Sampras, serving any candidates,
the human cannonball and no you can't predict the damages.
Man of myth, go those panties in a twist,
crack a mile and lift it now, fits on style
from the monologue of ominous.
The one that brought your sarcophagus,
scoop a top model, then I throttle your metropolis.
Sip a bottomless cup, so my dawn is shit,
part the Red Sea so that we could see a Nautilus.
The cephalopod left in the mosh pit,
Leprachauns getting stepped on by the big kids
to the breaka breaka dawn.
We storm jams like giants,
tyrants of 'plied science,
and rhymes are like violence.
I'm straight riling on dark Melrose islands,
A primal rap mogul that got you flow ridin'.
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