Blockbuster Night Pt. 1 (Live From SXSW / 2015) Run The Jewels
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Blockbuster Night Pt. 1 (Live From SXSW / 2015)" by Run The Jewels. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
Bunches and bunches, punches is thrown until you’re frontless
Oodles and oodles, bang bullets at suckers' noodles
Last album? Voodoo! Proved that we was fuckin' brutal
I’m talking crazy, half past the clock is cuckoo
You rappers doodoo, baby shit, just basic boo boo
I’m Shaka Zulu, Mansa Musa, my money's beaucoup
My beats is bangin’, fuck what you rappin, who produced you?
I slapped the snot, take what ya got and Run The Jewels you
[Verse 2: El-P]
You itsy bitsy, furry frightened and frickin' sickly
A little prickly, dick on display for winter swimming
Look at these kiddies, Mike, I'mma rat-a-tat 'em for living
I deal in dirty work; do the deed and then dash—ditch 'em
I'd lend a hand but it's stuck in a fist and gun position
We run a brand where destruction's the number one commitment
It’s all a joke between mom contractions and coffin fittings
So we disappear into smoke like we're fucking magicians
[Verse 3: Killer Mike & (El-P)]
No hocus pocus, you simple suckers been served a notice
Top of the morning, my fist to your face is fucking Folgers
(We might be giants, standing on little dandy shoulders)
You punks is pussy, proverbial pansy panty holders
I Jake the Snake ‘em, DDT ‘em in mausoleums
Macabre massacres killing cunts in my coliseum
(They all actors, giving top in back of a BM
I’d fall back if the casting calls are ending in semen)
Bunches and bunches, punches is thrown until you’re frontless
Oodles and oodles, bang bullets at suckers' noodles
Last album? Voodoo! Proved that we was fuckin' brutal
I’m talking crazy, half past the clock is cuckoo
You rappers doodoo, baby shit, just basic boo boo
I’m Shaka Zulu, Mansa Musa, my money's beaucoup
My beats is bangin’, fuck what you rappin, who produced you?
I slapped the snot, take what ya got and Run The Jewels you
[Verse 2: El-P]
You itsy bitsy, furry frightened and frickin' sickly
A little prickly, dick on display for winter swimming
Look at these kiddies, Mike, I'mma rat-a-tat 'em for living
I deal in dirty work; do the deed and then dash—ditch 'em
I'd lend a hand but it's stuck in a fist and gun position
We run a brand where destruction's the number one commitment
It’s all a joke between mom contractions and coffin fittings
So we disappear into smoke like we're fucking magicians
[Verse 3: Killer Mike & (El-P)]
No hocus pocus, you simple suckers been served a notice
Top of the morning, my fist to your face is fucking Folgers
(We might be giants, standing on little dandy shoulders)
You punks is pussy, proverbial pansy panty holders
I Jake the Snake ‘em, DDT ‘em in mausoleums
Macabre massacres killing cunts in my coliseum
(They all actors, giving top in back of a BM
I’d fall back if the casting calls are ending in semen)
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