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Текст песни Sole - Dear El-Pee

Sole - Dear El-Pee слова песни

"Dear El-Pee,How`s your summer been? Mine`s been fine. I heard you had a real good time atcamp. Oh, yeah, I talked Len, he said everything`s cool. Oh, yo, I really liked"End to End Burner"; that little diss me thing on the internet was prettyfunny. Yeah, it`s live, sucker. Uh, yeah, and I was talking, y`know, trying tosell my record distributors and they wouldn`t take it because, you know, somefat white kid was thinkin` it`d be funny to blackball. Well, you know, I wrotea little poem about it and I really hope you like it. So have your mother readit to you and if you guys like it, you can write me back!"I`m a Anticon iconclast catalyst for cataclysmTell Fox: dissing Sole, bad executive decisionYour egosystem`s frail, with a spoon I could dissect itSoundin` like Corky got his nubs on a Webster`s dictionaryA Ras Kass record and a brand new MPCPressing all them pretty buttons, making wack beatsTo hell with Fat Beats, I`d rather rock acapellaI`d rather be broke and have a whole lot resentNot a Rich King, a pawn, a peon for me to pee onCheck out 9th Street, a big sign: "El-Pee got served" in neonTrendy indie underground cause you haven`t got a choiceTake a way your elitist buddies and you haven`t got a voiceNo five thousand for radio, no hundred-thou for ads and bannersNo paying record stores for all your Rawkus propagandaWell-timed marketing scheme, it`s cool to be independentBut if it was last year, you`d be a dun or a Missy ElliotAnd after your indie bravado and the label has recoupedYou`re broker than when Libra left you crying for a record deal from LukeI strike you awestruck, you femanine to blackballI`ll be serving you `til you`re serving me ice cream in a mallSome fool said this an underground Canibus and LLWell that`s comedy, cause I`ll serve all three of y`allHeard Rupert had to starve all the indie artists to feed your ego Running around the Bay looking for Sole with your foot in your mouthI heard you like the Bay (Castro) but think 4 tracks are wackLost in the Ozone and all your mixdowns sound like crapHiding lack of intellect behind hipster catch phrase and babble Indellibles`ll never get a full length cause you don`t wanna be outshinedFine, I heard you wanna kill me and get fools after me The only violence you ever witnessed was on Menace II SocietyTry to sound deep and got masses fooled by your lack of rhythmI elevate while you perpetuate your malopropism[Yo, wha, what did he just call me, dun?]Yo, I don`t know, man. Yo, I, I don`t know what he just called you, man.[Well, yo, go get the books. Go get the Bible.]Yo, man, well apparently you must`ve ripped all the pages out in thedictionary, man, cause you`ve used all the words.[So I`m never gonna find out what he called me? He`s usin` big words againstme? Yo, this is intrepid, god!]I`m a hip hop artist, you style-biting MC suckerHad a Crayon contest with retarted kids and picked the wackest album coverPicked the wrong MC to diss subliminally, every line dissectedYeah, I diss you on the internet, to your face, and on recordFor the record, I know the muck from which out you have steppedFirst you sound like Beatnuts then you`re Mr. 4,000 syllables One bar, out of breath on stage a failureGotta quit rocking mics and start rocking an asthma inhalerEl-Producto: indepenent as FoxSince when do indie records show up in a WEA box?By saying you`re indepenent you belittle the whole movementReal MCs work hard, ain`t got investors to put out their musicUnderground conspiracy but this ain`t used by No LimitMad cause you didn`t blow up, the victim of your own wack gimmickBut some fools bought into it cause they don`t know no betterThat you`re a hamburger pimp, only out for the cheddarYo, what`s a battle MC that can`t freestyle?All these references to imaginary MCs, come battle meRemember in Boston, you started calling fools out?And when MCs try to battle, you were the first to break outWell, you surely don`t wanna battle, of course you want to fight, you`re biggerFine, you win, we can have a contest to see who`s the biggest wiggerOh, you win again, it must feel great, I heard you don`t like white MCsTraded in your Kani and X hats for a fresh set of Echo and AdidasYou as hip hop as Garth Brooks and as manly as garter beltsAnd if you`re so creative talk about something other than yourselfNo, I`m not dissing New York or any of your comrads in armsI`m tearing down that posterboy Miss Piggy-lookin` leprachaunEl-Pee vs. the Spice Girls (I got five on Scary Spice)But both of y`all are in desperate need of back up singers when it`s liveAnd I know they think your original, but follow me through this portalYou bit your whole styles from an underground MC named VordulSpread rumors about me to everyone you meet, evade being a manI heard you putting out an instumental album of sitars, pots, and pansYou`ve done enough talking, so I know you ain`t fading SoleHave your boy Rupert Murdoch fly you out, I`ll serve you on the Wake Up ShowThe redheaded kingpin, step child to a little herpe sore festeringHeard you only pull females when you tell `em you`re a lesbianWanna sign autographs, but all your fans are rappersThe evolution will not be televised as your #1 fan becomes your masterI`d love to give you a hand but all I got is a middle fingerFarakhan won`t squash this, so we can finish it on Jerry SpringerNewsweek martyr, bring your rhetoric retortYou oughta tootsie roll under your rock, your two minutes of fame got cut shortFYI: starving artists don`t have corporate luncheonsGot a horrible freeestyle and the rest of your style is (studio punch-ins)The dun crusher busts fresh, overly when I blast `emAnd those so called freestyles, they all popped up on your albumManipulate your connects so they wanna see me on a curbBut I guarantee you lyin`, cause you know one-on-one you`d get servedNow it`s time to pay dues like when Daddy Warbucks Bought your face onto the cover of the last StressWe gonna battle, so write your rhymes ahead of timeAnd I`ll still come twice as freshAnd keep it all in the family, like Rose I`ll take a back seatKeep my name out your mouth like my wax from the racks of (Fat Beats)Fat egos inflated, hope you liked my little poemAnd hope to hear from you soon, signed, your friend, Sole

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