El Oh El 12 by The Thought Lyrics
[Intro]
Yea, Food For Thought, yo
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 1]
I'm climbing the steps, got bitches who rep, better go prep
Before I break your neck, take a sec to fret, yet you's still decked
We've barely met, but you're on the D, tenaciously desperate
Separated by talent: Bono and Robin, I'm paid commensurate
Williams to Rory, Ono to Chaz, balance your visual anthrax
Ha, shitting your pants like you on Ex-Lax
Tampax-fat blunts with the crew to show you something new
Eschew few who truly do woo you, cue goo, foo, glue too
Voodoo to the respiratory system, magic breath to rap
Plasmic flow, rap's blood bro, foe to the lame hip-tip-tap
Trap is the holiest house there is, hit and miss nothing at all
Call me The Thought of tall-tales, dream-liver figure I ball
Stall trying to respond, feeding you crumbs like a duck pond
Yonder the blue sky when high, Yonkers got some true bond
Rhymes well, lacks the mainstream smell, you under my spell
Pell Grant for Hell, honor student impudent, I'd fuck Adele
Struck by lightning, the lyrical Enlightening, Philo's hero
Kilo of Ya-yo bumping Ne-Yo, you should read more, man
Compare 3AM to “Stan”, by band is dirty too, with our fans
Burning down the game, strings play laughter, call me Nero, man
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 2]
Sure I'll burn a few down, but I'm not one to burn an ounce
Got a curfew back in Cali, so I often gotta smoke and bounce
Pounce on any opportunity to feature someone, Young Pun
Stun Gun with the vocabulary, dumb fun while you done
Bubonic plague, infectious lines that the masses bump
Catchier than the Chlamydia you'll get from a whore hump
Take a dump on shrooms, you'll meet God above
Ha, I soar like a dove while you get no more love
Rub my back honey, the money's for bud, not you
Guess Who, The Thought rude as stank mud, Half-Jew
Got that ability to barter, for lyrical hip-hop I'm a martyr
Don't drink so I'm never a card-er, trip into the farther
Yard, er, long bong, measure my high in Rips: around 15
Been higher than a jet flier since the lighter lit me keen
Fiend for a stogie on certain drugs but otherwise quit
Spit jugs of moonshine-proof lyrics, flick of the bic
Full bass boom on the speakers, tweakers cured
Reefer Chief Keefer, Banger you're blessed to have heard
Word to the listeners, thank you homies for downloading
Now please, my crown and championship ring need unloading
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 3]
Now listen carefully, I'll slow down the flow
Mr. Slow Flow is more so, but I don't stay low
My wallet grows, my marijuana's Ghana-grown
Afghan got nothing on an ounce of Bozone
From the 626 to the 406 I draw fans
Raw hands from writing so many lyrical plans
Banned banners repping my lack of manners
Planners track me for rapping to the ganders
Harder than copper, grandfather of hip-hoppers
You boppers bop off, spot you lyrical QWOPpers
Mopping up the mess you've made of the game
While you stay lame my raps untamed with pain
Stain your rep, with my two step rain of brains
While you've no words left to use my mind gains
You mix me with anyone, I improve the track
Secretly black, jacked while you secrete the whack
Blunts on blunts on blunts with stunts and rap
Trap beats by cunts that don't know the map
I'm the navigator, finding traitors and leading out
Clout of these clouds, tape to cover your shouts
I don't care what you talk about, route your life
Reroute the strife to you not fiending the mic, ripe
About to burst, with flow skills you thirst for
Worst of the worst, you sold out like a hurt whore
The labels pimp you to the ignorant masses
Ratchets with rants of things, I'm hard, you're flaccid
Massive effect, a crater in your fan base, I ace
Race to first place was won by me, have a taste
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 4]
So let me wrap up this rap with a lesson for you
The map in rap is not riches, but a session for two
Bustin' caps is trap, sure, but it makes you unfavorable
Unplayable on the radio is a compliment lately, yo
Why y'all gotta hate and start up beef with bullets?
Less likely to bed respect than a red-neck's mullet
You's playing the same games as politicians, bluh, cuh
Am I looking to get shot? Nah, that's not the way, duh
Love and Hate are the same in actuality, so for fucks sake
Put down the Glocks, the Uzis and the fucking AK's
I'm The Thought, here to return rap to its roots and soil
Now burn off and die, the soot to my everlasting holy oil
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Outro]
(El Oh El)
Yea, Food For Thought, yo
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 1]
I'm climbing the steps, got bitches who rep, better go prep
Before I break your neck, take a sec to fret, yet you's still decked
We've barely met, but you're on the D, tenaciously desperate
Separated by talent: Bono and Robin, I'm paid commensurate
Williams to Rory, Ono to Chaz, balance your visual anthrax
Ha, shitting your pants like you on Ex-Lax
Tampax-fat blunts with the crew to show you something new
Eschew few who truly do woo you, cue goo, foo, glue too
Voodoo to the respiratory system, magic breath to rap
Plasmic flow, rap's blood bro, foe to the lame hip-tip-tap
Trap is the holiest house there is, hit and miss nothing at all
Call me The Thought of tall-tales, dream-liver figure I ball
Stall trying to respond, feeding you crumbs like a duck pond
Yonder the blue sky when high, Yonkers got some true bond
Rhymes well, lacks the mainstream smell, you under my spell
Pell Grant for Hell, honor student impudent, I'd fuck Adele
Struck by lightning, the lyrical Enlightening, Philo's hero
Kilo of Ya-yo bumping Ne-Yo, you should read more, man
Compare 3AM to “Stan”, by band is dirty too, with our fans
Burning down the game, strings play laughter, call me Nero, man
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 2]
Sure I'll burn a few down, but I'm not one to burn an ounce
Got a curfew back in Cali, so I often gotta smoke and bounce
Pounce on any opportunity to feature someone, Young Pun
Stun Gun with the vocabulary, dumb fun while you done
Bubonic plague, infectious lines that the masses bump
Catchier than the Chlamydia you'll get from a whore hump
Take a dump on shrooms, you'll meet God above
Ha, I soar like a dove while you get no more love
Rub my back honey, the money's for bud, not you
Guess Who, The Thought rude as stank mud, Half-Jew
Got that ability to barter, for lyrical hip-hop I'm a martyr
Don't drink so I'm never a card-er, trip into the farther
Yard, er, long bong, measure my high in Rips: around 15
Been higher than a jet flier since the lighter lit me keen
Fiend for a stogie on certain drugs but otherwise quit
Spit jugs of moonshine-proof lyrics, flick of the bic
Full bass boom on the speakers, tweakers cured
Reefer Chief Keefer, Banger you're blessed to have heard
Word to the listeners, thank you homies for downloading
Now please, my crown and championship ring need unloading
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 3]
Now listen carefully, I'll slow down the flow
Mr. Slow Flow is more so, but I don't stay low
My wallet grows, my marijuana's Ghana-grown
Afghan got nothing on an ounce of Bozone
From the 626 to the 406 I draw fans
Raw hands from writing so many lyrical plans
Banned banners repping my lack of manners
Planners track me for rapping to the ganders
Harder than copper, grandfather of hip-hoppers
You boppers bop off, spot you lyrical QWOPpers
Mopping up the mess you've made of the game
While you stay lame my raps untamed with pain
Stain your rep, with my two step rain of brains
While you've no words left to use my mind gains
You mix me with anyone, I improve the track
Secretly black, jacked while you secrete the whack
Blunts on blunts on blunts with stunts and rap
Trap beats by cunts that don't know the map
I'm the navigator, finding traitors and leading out
Clout of these clouds, tape to cover your shouts
I don't care what you talk about, route your life
Reroute the strife to you not fiending the mic, ripe
About to burst, with flow skills you thirst for
Worst of the worst, you sold out like a hurt whore
The labels pimp you to the ignorant masses
Ratchets with rants of things, I'm hard, you're flaccid
Massive effect, a crater in your fan base, I ace
Race to first place was won by me, have a taste
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Hook]
Look, the answers you're begging for, I don't got
Unless the answer's “Yes” when you're begging for The Thought
Aha-ha ha-ha ha, yeah
[Verse 4]
So let me wrap up this rap with a lesson for you
The map in rap is not riches, but a session for two
Bustin' caps is trap, sure, but it makes you unfavorable
Unplayable on the radio is a compliment lately, yo
Why y'all gotta hate and start up beef with bullets?
Less likely to bed respect than a red-neck's mullet
You's playing the same games as politicians, bluh, cuh
Am I looking to get shot? Nah, that's not the way, duh
Love and Hate are the same in actuality, so for fucks sake
Put down the Glocks, the Uzis and the fucking AK's
I'm The Thought, here to return rap to its roots and soil
Now burn off and die, the soot to my everlasting holy oil
Aha ha ha-ha ha...
[Outro]
(El Oh El)