EcheSketch - CrackSpittah lyrics

[Intro] Eegad, we have a Crackpittah on our hands, yikes Repping GoonSquad 'till d**h, life n***a [Verse 1: EcheSketch] By my "Simon Says" sermons you're brainwashed easily The Rap King MIA while I sit in the f**ing regency Somehow legally, I've had the damn decency to set fire to recently expired bodies in a pyre Power like that went from desired to required in the matter of seconds it takes strippers Led by Meyers, to fall back on the voting polls When I'm done with you, you'll be gone as the Temple's People with cyanide in the punch bowls Or as the acid expelled from my stomach after a quart of ipecac The only crack you deal with is the your face hitting a f**ing cinderblock Though I hate your Hard Metal, there's a compulsion for a Platinum track We go harder than botched kickflips onto f**ing concrete, GoonSquad, we're that elite fleet of kids in the street A group you wish you could beat Dwayne, Turk, and Juvenile, my rhymes as hot as them I hock a phlegm about whatever originates from my brain steam f** with me and I'll introduce your girl to Antron Singleton You're needed as much as the color white in a crayon collection Can you be put head to head against Richard Gautling's invention? I'll retire you b**h, and still make 10 times your pension Calling your name, but I ain't seeking attention Let's just say if I were Europeans I'd collect more pounds than what you're benching I have that flow like a girl a dozen times a year If you appear to brag about doing better at my career I say hold up! Like a hoodrat and a cashier As if from the violence I've eschewed I came out and openly dissed you I thought you would actually do something, like the campaigns for Kony But you just run and hid, playing around like your consoles were Sony I hope to see you suffer a loss of money, like lives in the Holocaust As I witness my views heighten through the windows of my Microsoft You're all a bunch of squares like Enix's Lara Croft. (Haha, or Newports) [Hook] CrackSpittah on our hands. [x4] [Verse 2: Rodder] Eche gave me the mic, so it's my time to shine The sun rises again on my day so I'm doing just fine People call me the Whitney Houston of rap because I take a fat line But don't come crying to me when you don't come back from the flat line Yo, I beat it up and up like that Muhammed Ali flow I'm a bird biting at your ears, call me Tyson crow I'm here to stay, don't act like you don't even know I can ressurect like 2Pac did several years ago Now, I'm in your itunes opening like a birthday card Now every track I'm not featured on can't even go hard I rep Chi-town sports, you can call me a die hard I protect you goons from getting this rap game, body guard Me and Eche repping the Burbs man we ain't thugs That dont mean I won't mash your face in like a fat pug And pop it back out like that Louisville slug Then leave your a** dead, rolled up like Cleopatra in a red rug Yeah, this is Eche's track so I don't give a sh** anyway Wait I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly, What did you say? Yes, I finally swore so you f*gs won't think I'm that gay Maybe now I'll get noticed and I won't be that dog type stray