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Текст песни Sole - Dear Elpee

Sole - Dear Elpee слова песни

[Sole]Dear El-Pee,How`s your summer been? Mine`s been fineI heard you had a real good time at campOh, yeah, I talked to Len, he said everythings coolOh, yo, I really liked "End To End Burner"That little diss me thing on the internet was pretty funnyYeah it`s live suckerUh, yeah, and I was talking, ya know, trying to sell my records to distributorsAnd they wouldn`t take it because, you know Some fat white kid figured it`d be funny to blackballWell, you know, I wrote a little poem about it and I really hope you like itSo have your mother read it to you and if you guys like it you can write me back I`m a Anticon iconoclast 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 websters dictionaryA Ras Kass record and a brand new MPCPressing all them pretty buttons making wack beatsTo hell with phat beats I`d rather rock acapellaI`d rather be broke and have a whole`lotta resentNot a rich king, a pawn, a pegan 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 away your elitist buddies and you haven`t got a voiceNo five thousand for radio, no hundred thou for adds and bannersNo paying record stores for all your Rawkus propagandaWell-timed marketing scheme, its 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 `till you`re serving me ice cream in a mallSome fool said this is 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 egoRunning around the Bay looking for Sole with your foot in your mouthI heard you like the Bay (castro) but think four tracks are wackLost in the ozone and all your mixdowns sound like crapHiding lack of intellect behind hipster catch phrase and babbleIndellibles`ll never get a full-length `cause you don`t wanna be outshinedFine, I heard you wanna kill me and get fools after meThe only violence you ever witnessed was on Menace ll SocietyTry to sound deep and got masses fooled by your lack of rhythmI elevate while you perpetuate your malopropism [Sole mimmicking El-P]Yo, wha, what did he just call me dun?Yo, I don`t know manYo, I, I don`t know what he just called you manWell, yo, go get the books, go get the BibleYo, man, well apparently you must have ripped all the pages out in the dictionaryman, `cause you`ve used all the wordsSo I`m never gonna find out what he called me?He`s usin` big words against me?Yo, this is intrepid god I`m a hip hop artist, you style biting emcee suckerHad a crayon contest with retarted kids and picked the wackest album coverPicked the wrong emcee 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 syllablesOne bar, out of breath on stage a failureGotta quit rockin` mics and start rockin` an asthma inhalerEl-Producto, independent as FoxSince when do indie records show up in a W-E-A box?By saying your independent, you belittle the whole movementReal emcee`s 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 emcee that can`t freestyle?All those references to imaginary emcee`s, come battle meRemember in Boston, you starting calling fools out?And when emcee`s tried to battle, you were the first to break outWell, you surely don`t wanna battle, of course you wanna 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 emcee`sTraded in your Kani and X hats for a fresh set of Echo`s and AdidasYou as hip hop as Garth Brooks and as manly as gartar beltsAnd if you`re so creative, talk about something other than yourselfNo, I`m not dissing New York or any of your comrades in armsI`m tearing down that posterboy Miss Piggy-lookin` leprachaunEl-Pee vs. The Spice Girls (I got 5 on scary spice)But both of y`all are in desperate need of backup singers when it`s liveAnd I know they think you`re original but follow me through this portalYou bit your whole styles from an underground emcee named VordulSpread rumors about me to everyone you meet, evade being a manI heard you`re putting out an instrumental album of sitars, pots and pansYou`ve done enough talking, so I know you ain`t fading SoleHave your boy Rupert Murdock fly you out, I`ll serve you on the Wake Up ShowThe red-headed 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 outta tootsie roll under your rock, your two minutes of fame got cut shortFYI: starving artists don`t have corporate luncheonsGot a horrible freestyle 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 1-on 1 you`d get servedNow it`s time to pay dues like when Daddy WarbucksBought 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 mouths like my wax from the racks of (phat beats)Fat ego`s inflated, hope you liked my little poemAnd hope to hear from you soon, signed, your friend, Sole

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