Company Flow [Rap]

OK ease back before I make position to squeeze
The head burner cookin eminate thought and grab my phallus
Please I pump kinetics with unintentional malice
Wanna battle one of us is endin up in God's palace
Doubt my shit's Official the Megatron missile
Bio computer virus with flesh eating potential
(I'm convinced) future MC's are sending robots back in time
as we speak to kill my mother before I'm born be warned
You catch a high place cinchin, lucky you just the engine
On a vision quest but my breathe is on
bad intentions to herd the lyrical peak, at my inventions
CoFlow providing DJ's with turntable weapons
Snatch that, Disco Daddy, father pops grand shh
Eliminate pretense, turn rocks to sand
You're rockin low budget Doctor Who special effects
and that's half-baked, you never get a buck when you act
E-L dash, P is servin ----- we smash
be a bootleg, and buildin up a fat nest egg
I say fuck you, it's easy, say it again FUCK YOU
Love love to rock bottom beats for the flicks
To hibernate and syncopate but I'm still in the mix
One of the many young policin breathers knockin out sequence
Life's a L-O-T-T-O, carry a switch for self-defense
Rappers try to front, but when I rhyme, where that beef went?
If I'm just a reflection then I'm takin over mirrors
?woo lock to mack cornum status?, maybe that's clearer
*Mr. Len cuts KRS-One saying 'Live and direct'*
See what I'm saying? See what I'm saying?
It's just the chorus, it's just the chorus
It's till infinity, CoFlow shit, and that's it
I rock prisms in different downtowns
Tainted blood donor, bustin melodies around sound
Left-wing extremist, hip-hop militia
Bitches suck the penis competition call me Mister
when I Collude, with Mr. Len it's brainfood, strictly
Never again I let a record label trap me
Try to clap me, with paperwork that leaves me empty
Gas me to diss me, I swear to God you'd have to kill me
Turpentine FDA approved tactics
Styles invade for thin skinned rappers I bust scholastics
Sixteen-oh-four mackie plus
leave you in the dust, bustin them ?try move for Jus?
Ninety degrees is CoFlow, runnin interference
MC's they bite my shit, but I don't give em sample clearance
Hell, I put my shit out even if I have to sell
like a bucket of herbs before a pressing, oppressing
but somewhat excessive, sexually suggestive
I can suck a cookie out of pussy, no question
Back off, deadly like cigarettes and black coffee
Long as I got lungs and a knot you can't stop me
*Mr. Len scratches again*
It's till infinity
CoFlow shit
KnowhatI'msayin, check it out, check it out
MC's is like livin in breakbeat hell
You try to knock me off the ladder kid the fatter I swell
It don't matter turnin liquid into wine by design
Not sayin I'm Je-sus, the holy buck, with a halo
Just an urbanite riding the train till I hit paydirt
Smoke bones that's in a CoFlow tracks and like max
that's my flavor, experimental behavior ?by scientist?
Got props from Brooklyn Hasidic Jews to Queens Zionists
The Manhattan/New Jersualem type connection
Mork in erection, fiendin out for female affection
My style is one whole piece, your shit is just the Cliff Notes
Eminent plays chronic, MC's pneumonic
You're buggin now fuck that, radio wack reconvene
I sign for my condition, Company Flow vaccine
Indelible MC's, choice top status
Krazy Kings, from juvenile techniques to manhood
I make my own grain and go against it
Pissin on authority, dropped out of school, for seniority
to do this hip-hop shit, but resonate classic
Pops wasn't around so I'm a secondhand bastard
Hypothesis simple, the earth is my pimple
Pocket the extra cash then CoFlow multplying like triplets
It's senseless, leaving rapeprs elderly and defenseless
Going into details is worthless, fuck it
I got your surplus, as long as there'll be peons on the surface
I claim my outpost and boast, cause I deserve to
Swerve to, miss the link, colder than a fetus on a hockey rink
You think not what? Best be he not
For ? and not givin up a little somethin at the weed spot
Bigg Jus what's the verdict on this beat (that shit is mad hot)
Give a whistle if you hear this, can't best me
Try to keep my lyrics short and fat like Joe Pesci
God bless me
*Mr. Len*
Know what I'm saying, till infinity
Still working out the bugs
It's gonna be on though
MC's can't fuck with me, CoFlow shit
Forgot to tell you that
Mr. Len, Bigg Jus, BMS, and then you have me, Elijah
The one and only diamond speechless starving artist
Goin on from nine to five
CoFlow shit, Mr. Len..

Since you're my special friend come closer for a special treat
(Uh)
I'm going to let you touch me in a special place
(But I don't want to touch you there)
It is never ok to touch someone else's private parts
Your mom and dad will tell you so
Verse One: Bigg Jus
Your eyes get live like Tupac getting shot in a lobby
Most MC's styles is robbery of my freestyles as a hobby
I pick apart monkey brains and spread disease through hot zones
My cameos on promos seem strange like someone's not home
Bigg Jus the outsider rain on your dream field
With styles so freaking wet niggas need maxi panty shields
Expose more moes out the closet that lead paint on your tenement
Got more Black Thoughts in my Roots than most niggas got in their
pigment
It's the baby-faced lieutenant with the luck like Luciano
Hardcore like Kool G Rap music made for concert piano
So dust off the candelabra, hip hop's version of the super Don Dada
With the license to give more ass whippings than Father
You couldn't see me with binoculars, cover myself like telepathy
Make most crews disappear like blackheads on Oxy creme
Under the lights I fuck up mics with my uncanny ability to heat seek
Through brain facilities with the science of microchemistry
This history of my hip hop is too deep to be dissected
Bitch recollect don't even half step or try to test it black
Bigg Jus, I drop so much shit my anus needs an ice pack
In fact I'm all that, El-P yo bring the horns back
(Yes)
Right through the center of your focus picture a long silver needle
(You are correct sir)
Piercing the outer lens of your eyesight
[El-P]
And once again
In one verse we have proven
That we can rip all these signed big budget motherfuckers
(89.9)
Peace to Stretch and Bobbito
(Bob-bi-to!)
Verse Two: El-P
Ye olde lyrics of fire
Surface bonds from X-Wing fighter stance to B-boy
Actions fratcture negative thirty below wind chill factor
The counteraction is just a helpless action of the hapless flinching
My supersonics leave you mute like Maggie Simpson
Taxidermist El-P I defy translation
Instigate and set in crates(?) throughout your whole situation
Practice exposing perfection like Ricki Like exposes white trash
My shit is strange X-file number 2-6-7 whiplash
Triple felon emcee minus the melanin
When I bomb it the type of shit to make Baby Jessica jump in the well
again
Sunshines or rain acid, El-P the battle master
Lactose breaking down your fucking fractals till you're flaccid
I'm leaving Las Vegas like a hundred flying Elvises
Raid, spot my prey, swoop down and cross their pelvises
Rat nerve like David grill smoke bitch
Catch my frozen frame suspended
You couldn't even fuck with my idle fidget
My birthright I'm pulling swords from stones high tone beam
Phonetically abort it try to distort it and catch a silent scream,
fetus
The raw daddy tactics prove Krush Groove unstoppable
Testing luck it's like sucking on lead pink popsicles
The enigma, no one can fuck with me yet but I'm not signed
(You wanna battle?)
It's better to look in the
(mirror)
Say Candyman five times
Candyman (whispered 5x)
Just a promo
Understand
(Candyman)
To be the man you gots to beat the man
(It's so clear now)
Me and Bigg Jus
(The beautiful light)
Company Flow clan
(I can touch it)
Mr. Len, 'sup?
89.9
Hit me with that shit some time
Bigg Jus, Lune TNS
The almighty El-P
The imperial DJ Mr. Len
Company Flow swinging it to you live for '95

Verse One: Bigg Jus
Rugged like Rwanda don't wind up far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti that jizzin' can't control
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate lyrically
detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the grand canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that
Here's what I want you to do
Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade
Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee
Verse Two: El-P
Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty
Color me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me
As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'mma piss it back rusty
Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right
I'm on 'em like they're on pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap on, welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me
The witness to the shit you wanna be
DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant
Feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state
Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up, what bitch you're boxing shadows
Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll
Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores
Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
Cause I'm a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
BJ Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked
EP Eight stpes to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
Verse Three: Bigg Jus
The holy terror, last moves you never won't win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaicin like a chin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to letcha know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
They fuck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any type sport like the vandal
I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw
Massacre one two three you're taking and tell 'em
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple