CrackSpittah by EcheSketch Lyrics
[Intro]
Eegad, we have a Crackpittah on our hands, yikes
Repping GoonSquad 'till death, life nigga
[Verse 1: EcheSketch]
By my "Simon Says" sermons you're brainwashed easily
The Rap King MIA while I sit in the fucking 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 fucking cinderblock
Though I hate your Hard Metal, there's a compulsion for a Platinum track
We go harder than botched kickflips onto fucking 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
Fuck 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 bitch, 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 Tupac 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 ass dead, rolled up like Cleopatra in a red rug
Yeah, this is Eche’s track so I don’t give a shit anyway
Wait I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly, What did you say?
Yes, I finally swore so you fags won't think I'm that gay
Maybe now I’ll get noticed and I won't be that dog type stray
Eegad, we have a Crackpittah on our hands, yikes
Repping GoonSquad 'till death, life nigga
[Verse 1: EcheSketch]
By my "Simon Says" sermons you're brainwashed easily
The Rap King MIA while I sit in the fucking 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 fucking cinderblock
Though I hate your Hard Metal, there's a compulsion for a Platinum track
We go harder than botched kickflips onto fucking 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
Fuck 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 bitch, 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 Tupac 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 ass dead, rolled up like Cleopatra in a red rug
Yeah, this is Eche’s track so I don’t give a shit anyway
Wait I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly, What did you say?
Yes, I finally swore so you fags won't think I'm that gay
Maybe now I’ll get noticed and I won't be that dog type stray