8 Steps To Perfection Lyrics - Singles - Company Flow

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 lectures in can 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 Wind starring as Cochise 

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 

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'ma piss it back rusty 

Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right 

I'm on 'em like aorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers 

Clap off, 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 techs 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 

8 steps to perfection 

The sum of each part forms an octagon 

Let rhyme styles get sparked 

8 steps to perfection 

The sum of each part forms an octagon 

Where rhyme styles get sparked 

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, Jamaican like a chin 

Hot rocking corduroy, Bally's 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 Tennessee 

Or trapped in the bedroom with the 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' 

One two three, 'The Taking of Pelham' 

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