Meltdown

Lyrics

[Verse 1: L-Swift] I spit phenomenal skills Yo, who guarding their grills and rip pages? Pardon my spills. NE flip it and mix phases And spit gauges from right off of the Trump Tower You get wet up in broad daylight like sunshowers You still fucking with gunpowder, you outdated About facing, got niggas down in the South waiting 'til We get dough, and organize 'til I'm Three-Six-O Yo, I only plant seeds that grow, support When I'm higher. I know the toll down. We burn more trees Than forest fires, and even if you injured You know the game. There's so many things I overcame. I get Some Novocain, numb my thoughts up but flow the same As I always do. Evacuate your APT And your hallways too. I call A and Voo. Fuck all them Niggas with phony titles, and peacе to niggas in jail Reading the Holy Bible. Shit, my only rival Ain't around no morе. He on a milk-box, chilling Y'all niggas so old, your kids got children. Get it now? I use my weapon now, hit you with lead portions For not rocking a vest all day like Ed Norton [Hook: Eddie Brock, (L-Swift), and {Both}] {Yo, it's} {A meltdown}. Gather your shit, (go for self now) L-Swift, (Eddie Brock—shit), {so what the hell now?} Anything that we're running to, we're running through. Yo, it's An overused cliché, but what you wanna do? 'Cause when we drop You'll wanna too. My crew be making fun of you, so, nigga What you wanna do? (Nah, what you wanna do? I know) (They look funny to me. They look funny to you?) So, nigga What you wanna do? (For real, what you wanna do?) [Verse 2: Eddie Brock] See, I impregnate your brain With thoughts you can't abort. I get loose over hangers with the use Of abusive language conducive to anguish. Don't do Something dangerous—if you do, make sure your crew come with bangers What? You wasn't taught what can happen when you fuck with strangers? You might get noosed up by strangers. Come on, don't make that the way You become famous. You need some space? I'll be happy to place My moon boots up Uranus 'til you see constellations Putting your shit on hold like constipation, making your centerfold From the magazines and the Glock you facing As a tool of confirmation to all the comp' I'm facing. At any Connotations of conversations of my contemplating The confrontation continues beyond the compilation The combinations land on contact, collapse your concentration Counter-constructive to your congregating and con- -spirational convocations. You're testing who? Mr. Brock A victor, conjurer of conjugations. See, considering all These cons, there gotta be some pros—that's where Eddie Brock and L-Swift Serve their purpose to contrast with the worthless Give a consumer something worth the purchase, snatching the makeup Wigs, and red noses off of these clowns trying to make The underground circuit surge into some sort of circus A little from nothing to work with. Y'all getting too much play It's time we stop and eject these rejects. Two niggas With a trigger reflex, Northeast BX [Hook: Eddie Brock, (L-Swift), and {Both}] {Yo, it's} {A meltdown}. Gather your shit, (go for self now) L-Swift, (Eddie Brock—shit), {so what the hell now?} Anything that we're running to, we're running through. Yo, it's An overused cliché, but what you wanna do? If we drop You'll wanna too. My crew be making fun of you, so, nigga What you wanna do? (Nah, what you wanna do? I know) (They look funny to me. They look funny to you?) So, nigga What you wanna do? Yo, what you wanna do?