Das Racist - Shut Up, Man lyrics

[Verse 1: Kool AD] Yes please, test me, Nestle chocolate mix con leche Isabelle Allende, no comprender? (get it?) Fight n***as with djembes (oops) white b**hes with hair spray (oops) Which way did he go? Slim Jim? Tempeh? Or Henny or Penny Lane or feather brain Cheddar cane, leather interior range Inferior Timothy Leary estranged theories of nearly insane Bleary eyed beardies whose gained sheerly by years of the same fears It's weird to the same ears whose careers Is to aim spears at the gears in the chains And weird to the ears of the lame squares of the gear and chain set Who perusing their tame losers approvingly Name truthers to losers of games blibbity blibbity blop Hideous all bark, no bite Mama said, "don't fight." Papa say "yeah, right." Sister in the dark with a flashlight I'm walking through the park in the lamp light, I'm a shark on the lamb with the Land mines, darts in the damn eye of the bull The mouth is the eyes of the soul, the soul is the a** of the brain The brain is the back of the train, back of the bus Acting and such, crack, discuss, act with us Or pack it up, or slice the price to twice as nice and jack it up Who gives a f** what I'm talking bout? Walk it out, knock em out the spot, let em talk it out Do the wop, baseball bat, all that Fall back, give a f** about what you wanna call that [Verse 2: Heems] New school Terror Squad, Tarragon, terror gods Little white bumps on gold keys, People act like they know me Finna go back to the old me, people act like they know me They say I act white, but sound black, but act black But sound white, but what's my sound bite supposed to sound like? I think I sound aight, I sound tight Ey El, don't worry bout how I sound aight? Wanna make enough to send to cousins in the motherland And Planned Parenthood at home, which is my other land Confused, wish I had a hovercraft to crash, I'd love that man My brother man said I could cop one for a hundred grand A hundred grand is all I need, a hundred is enough for me Enough for me to twist some weed, make some funnies with my beats Some more money with my G's, half a million in rupees Ya'll know Heems, I ain't bougie, Dig my dookie If you feel like poopie, addicted like Pookie that p**y do something to me Yo, my man You ain't funny, you Robin Williams, you got me all mad If you doubt I spit fire you probably a drag Mrs. Doubtfire, you probably all sad Probably wack like Affleck in Hollywoodland I probably would land on American Bandstand If I was from back then and not a tan man It's Himanshu, who could it be In that red Budweiser hat, who but me? White dad swag, my seeds change the world Don't have kids, you're not that ill, too much greed in the world [Verse 3: El-P] You can see hilarity ensue, polarity rule truth The street meat feed youth, the boogie men bend rules Elite scene double breast monocle men move When backroom blood boils the ink dries quite smooth Dim lights might prove, to bend eyesights oooh Eyelines obscured, skyline's removed I'm fine, and you? Fine like sinew In arm outstretched, inject in you The flash mob holds hands, chants "we want food!" Cargo bay loads, the drones just hit Mach 2 Burner hatch opens, the drone stops drops two Like kumbaya b**hes - you flash us? Flash you f** us? f** that, burn air, vaccuum Now there's a hot flash for that a** babe, achtung Yeah I stay guerilla mouth pouncing the block, true Come on it's the way of things, relax act cool No habla Inglés, only hobble, break disgrace Kick punch run pause piss repeat delete trace No option to talk it out, no route labeled 'escape' Flame your fuzzy friend crunchy plus cuddle with hate El-product plucking the little wings off your fly sh** Ants under the magnifier fry quick Pinning back eyelids, gaze upon the god that has subjected us My whole squad's Federal Reserve, no checking us