Theres no z in lasagne by Et Al. Lyrics
Everybody says pronunciation, so alien
They're faking english
Err umm, for instance mazwell
It is not mazwell, it is might as well
Aww hell
There is no z in lasagne
you can hear the s, can't ya?
Come back after and please speak eloquently
Some wack crafter with weak techniques evidently
English bastard beaten and broken
So smelly, rotten corpses of words and turds
Is the suffering, suffering english is what i had heard
Better to spеak to a bird
Hello cockie
Are you trying to mock mе?
Before i've even had my first coffee
Or is it because i talk like an aussie
Lofty posse wassee saying, oh he's sprayin
English at your face and curves around
In waves of sound in to your ears and thoughts appear
In your synapses's is where i practice
Coz i'm a mutha fuckin rappist
And you better pronounce that just right
Or you might end up in jail for the night
I've come to learn and accept that the fact is
Some people are just the wackest
Maybe they don't practice?
But they certainly preach
And we each teach speech
Like a devs for each
Loop and do until you've fixed up your speech
And in a couple of weeks
Come back
And maybe by then you won't sound so sweet
With a fresh track you ok with that?
And put a little venom in your rhyme
With maybe a woof woof or a quack
Don't be worried, don't be alarmed
I'm not armed, i'm friendly, but deadly
And slowly, but gently, you'll eventually
Remember the
Subtleties of syllables
And then you can rhyme with criminals
Did he just say that?
Yes he did and he is i, original and ever fly
Like evvafly, you know that guy?
He's a mate of mine from soundcloud
And i'm proud to be exclusive to the jungle
Unlike those signed up acts, with a poor post paste fumble
Am i in trouble?
Sorry for being so cheeky
But, your raps yaaaaawn so sleepy (yaawn)
They're uniquely sedating
What were you creating, like a z drug?
Or a benzo, maybe like a 2 milligram alprazolam?
Hey Duncan mate, let's have a couple of beers
I know that you can, relate
And relatability is the ability
To intrinsically mimic the
Rigidity of the english language
But with a certain a flair
And you can break it snap there
Bandage it
And speaking multiple languages
And now we're back to the synapses
But err umm what have you done to your neurons
You did damage
Maybe you should try spanish
Or danish or danish or greek or nihongo
Or italian or iranian
Perhaps canadian
Try australian
And if you fail at them
Well, we can work on your pronunciation
Excellence of elocution, we can rehab your rhymes
Remove the riddles and ride the vibes
Bully bucky rodeo, is this your first
Because i heard your shit and it's absurd
What is it, text to speech in word?
This is my third verse
And you haven't even finished your first
Burst your bubble and leave nothing but rubble in your stubble
Maybe you can buy a feature and the two of you can be a couple
Walking down the aisle of rhymes, with those little starry eyes
He tries and tries, but he will never surprise
Coz they tell theyself lies
So put your words in a burger and top it off with fries
Because they aren't ready for the big times
Who's your rival? mine's JASAIH
Jot it down, he think he's fire, but he's a liar!
And i'm a water type
I guess he yells sorta right
And what, you think he rhymes hard in to the dead of the night?
Not likely, prolly some producer hold his nuts
While he fucks up and then they do a poor post paste
And tell that cunt to shut the fuck up
But hey, i don't really know the guy or what he does
Or who or with, maybe he's just a sweet kid
But if you bring me his microphone i will obliterate that shit
But that's just the beginning of my inning
And outing that's what i'm all abouting
And hokey pokey and turn your self around
In Anti-de Sitter space with 1 dimension of time
With a brief history of rhyme and
Dicky feynman, yo my man
I hope when i'm dyin that
Up the heavens open
And when that god dude has spoken
I will fucking own him
Like a 98 petrol explosion
In your vocals
Bring the locals bring the united nations of rappers
With their slow rhymes like old beat up tractors
And the faster disaster master laughter
Sharper pasta penne, half past wednesday
You silly bastard
You farted in your lyrics
And forgot to include spirit
I suppose that maybe you were just kidding?
I dunno, maybe you should try knitting
Or admitting that you just didn't practice
Just admit to your wackness
And i'll give you some glasses and classes
And cure north american accents
We can level up together
Coz ain't no cunt gon diss us
We english masters, we shake words and they fizz up
We smash sentences with syllables until they give up
We crash mental institutions
And rhyme until they filled up
Mind control your neurons
And gluons and quarks and sparks fires
With water flows at shows and close
With like a double chocolate sundae
And one day, if you practice, you will no longer be the wackest
Hey yo, you rhyme shorter, my flows they wild water [unperformed]
You fire, well yeah sorta [unperformed]
My rhymes, they wild water [unperformed]
They're faking english
Err umm, for instance mazwell
It is not mazwell, it is might as well
Aww hell
There is no z in lasagne
you can hear the s, can't ya?
Come back after and please speak eloquently
Some wack crafter with weak techniques evidently
English bastard beaten and broken
So smelly, rotten corpses of words and turds
Is the suffering, suffering english is what i had heard
Better to spеak to a bird
Hello cockie
Are you trying to mock mе?
Before i've even had my first coffee
Or is it because i talk like an aussie
Lofty posse wassee saying, oh he's sprayin
English at your face and curves around
In waves of sound in to your ears and thoughts appear
In your synapses's is where i practice
Coz i'm a mutha fuckin rappist
And you better pronounce that just right
Or you might end up in jail for the night
I've come to learn and accept that the fact is
Some people are just the wackest
Maybe they don't practice?
But they certainly preach
And we each teach speech
Like a devs for each
Loop and do until you've fixed up your speech
And in a couple of weeks
Come back
And maybe by then you won't sound so sweet
With a fresh track you ok with that?
And put a little venom in your rhyme
With maybe a woof woof or a quack
Don't be worried, don't be alarmed
I'm not armed, i'm friendly, but deadly
And slowly, but gently, you'll eventually
Remember the
Subtleties of syllables
And then you can rhyme with criminals
Did he just say that?
Yes he did and he is i, original and ever fly
Like evvafly, you know that guy?
He's a mate of mine from soundcloud
And i'm proud to be exclusive to the jungle
Unlike those signed up acts, with a poor post paste fumble
Am i in trouble?
Sorry for being so cheeky
But, your raps yaaaaawn so sleepy (yaawn)
They're uniquely sedating
What were you creating, like a z drug?
Or a benzo, maybe like a 2 milligram alprazolam?
Hey Duncan mate, let's have a couple of beers
I know that you can, relate
And relatability is the ability
To intrinsically mimic the
Rigidity of the english language
But with a certain a flair
And you can break it snap there
Bandage it
And speaking multiple languages
And now we're back to the synapses
But err umm what have you done to your neurons
You did damage
Maybe you should try spanish
Or danish or danish or greek or nihongo
Or italian or iranian
Perhaps canadian
Try australian
And if you fail at them
Well, we can work on your pronunciation
Excellence of elocution, we can rehab your rhymes
Remove the riddles and ride the vibes
Bully bucky rodeo, is this your first
Because i heard your shit and it's absurd
What is it, text to speech in word?
This is my third verse
And you haven't even finished your first
Burst your bubble and leave nothing but rubble in your stubble
Maybe you can buy a feature and the two of you can be a couple
Walking down the aisle of rhymes, with those little starry eyes
He tries and tries, but he will never surprise
Coz they tell theyself lies
So put your words in a burger and top it off with fries
Because they aren't ready for the big times
Who's your rival? mine's JASAIH
Jot it down, he think he's fire, but he's a liar!
And i'm a water type
I guess he yells sorta right
And what, you think he rhymes hard in to the dead of the night?
Not likely, prolly some producer hold his nuts
While he fucks up and then they do a poor post paste
And tell that cunt to shut the fuck up
But hey, i don't really know the guy or what he does
Or who or with, maybe he's just a sweet kid
But if you bring me his microphone i will obliterate that shit
But that's just the beginning of my inning
And outing that's what i'm all abouting
And hokey pokey and turn your self around
In Anti-de Sitter space with 1 dimension of time
With a brief history of rhyme and
Dicky feynman, yo my man
I hope when i'm dyin that
Up the heavens open
And when that god dude has spoken
I will fucking own him
Like a 98 petrol explosion
In your vocals
Bring the locals bring the united nations of rappers
With their slow rhymes like old beat up tractors
And the faster disaster master laughter
Sharper pasta penne, half past wednesday
You silly bastard
You farted in your lyrics
And forgot to include spirit
I suppose that maybe you were just kidding?
I dunno, maybe you should try knitting
Or admitting that you just didn't practice
Just admit to your wackness
And i'll give you some glasses and classes
And cure north american accents
We can level up together
Coz ain't no cunt gon diss us
We english masters, we shake words and they fizz up
We smash sentences with syllables until they give up
We crash mental institutions
And rhyme until they filled up
Mind control your neurons
And gluons and quarks and sparks fires
With water flows at shows and close
With like a double chocolate sundae
And one day, if you practice, you will no longer be the wackest
Hey yo, you rhyme shorter, my flows they wild water [unperformed]
You fire, well yeah sorta [unperformed]
My rhymes, they wild water [unperformed]