Salud - Motown 25 lyrics

I bring fear fierce tears like El's career speared ears Meat machine - lean-cuisine rappers smeared on gears I flow quicksand, Liquid earth, Drown a man in land Dry every gland, the taste of my brand, Taste of Iran Persia, Iran, shah for an eon Crown brown Yo Samity Sam for his treason Hip hop is garbage, Spitters missing they targets Sitting pretty in markets wishing they had an audience Obvious! Ga** em up, ask for the candy stock Swag talk, booty b**hes, hired help for crews Ship em off to the mags for the hot chart reviews Bring em' to me, I'll make your 10 croon winter blues The cleanest cut of hip hop since bee-bop and weed dropped Funky fresh seed pop make you groove till your knees stop Then move a little more The flow is so adored like the smile of the newborn birthed in a winter storm Salud the barbarian Youngest of the contrarians Murderous humanitarian, vocals of proletariats Iranian uranium banging inside my cranium Radiating membrane be lighting up every stadium Dr. Musical Salud to the rescue - Ah! High-minded, Highlighted scribbles in math binders Rewind and feel the shine dripping from the speaker iron Twisted metal hot from the kettle makes the speaker blind My drum heats violent beats for vibrant streets Cities, farms and suburbs Rain, snow, shine or sleet I weather the weather whether for worse or for better Each letter can sweat a liter of blood from the effort I'm putting into music, this is thread that I'm spooling To keep you people warm in the night when you're snoozing On the mic I turn horizons sweet into thunderstorms Breathe in Reds, purples, blues where the sky is torn Always straight original Chemical syllables Enriched and cultivated with the purest hip hop minerals That still my targets citadel And smith my arrows plentiful See my feathers reding your head - so suitable Short little bottle rocket taped to some C4 Playing with fire, twisting the wire, you'll see more Fuel air gas blast ripping into air masks Nothing left to breathe but body ash so breathe fast Cheddar cheese, cake, green Bottles, ice all little bling Simple things given to simple men - Simpletons Uncle toms soon to be Rodney kings Ring tone rappers believing their own hype They're repping it Singing as they welcome it They ain't fly but they winging it Salud, I'm running my 8 mile as I'm building it Are you feelin it? Mr 5'5 on the umpteen can you see that I'm k**ing it?