I'll come Running Back To You
Quelle: Spotify
[SAMPLE TRACK]
"I'll come running back to you..."
[EDAN]
The E-triple is a sick cracker,
I'ma flip fast, and bitch-slap a thick rapper
after this I'll make your brain stop, trying to battle's like trying to light a candle with a raindrop
I ain't having it; you're at the stage slammin' it; after the show, you let me know you was a great fan of it,
the music that the E makes or creates, I'll make a thousand beats out of three crates and feel great
but if you want to rush the place and bluff and base, I'll fart in my hand and touch your face,
I never need an L or booze to elevate; I kill eleven crews, make the Channel 7 news and celebrate
My cerebellum breaks atoms; my brain patterns came from the same strange chasm that made Saturn
So don't doze on the shit I compose, 'cause I was digging for records while you was digging in your nose
So if you want to brawl and beef from across the street, I accomplish feats, 'cause talk is cheap
I meet jerks with a miss-ile, you'll be hurt when I reverse your work into a shit-pile
The dictator flips data; you'll get slain by a diss-master so ix-nay on the chit-chatter
I'm so passionate, it's accurate to say that I'm an addict on the mic, 'cause I keep running back to it.
[SAMPLE TRACK]
"I'll come running back to you..."
[EDAN]
So I was saying I'm a fiend for the pristine raps on the sixteen-track recorder
We oughta collaborate if you can imagine a way of lacerating the rhythm with fixing a fatter plate
When rotating on a Tech-12 platform I excel at warp-speeds and jaws bleed
I force-feed a cross-breed the thoughts needed to keep a secret and leave a weasel easily defeated
I'll tell you short like a dumb midget: you're not rhyming live so get a motherfucking nine-to-five and run with it
I'll sit your ass in a cubicle fast, or any other slave-driven environment for you to adapt
My name's written on every appliance in your brain-kitchen, to make ridges is one of my main missions
But it's not the determining factor, your ass-crack will catch a back-draft when I'm burning an actor
Verbal assassin; my architect pleases...
("When I was twelve...") I ate a lot of grilled cheeses
But nowadays to hold the mic's my only vice, so behold the might of a poltergeist
It's Edan not the Smothers Brothers, and if the microphone was heroin, I'd be a dead motherfucker!
base-heads need crack; I tried to leave the mic alone, but yo, ("I can't hold it back!")
[SAMPLE]
"I'll come running back to you..."
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