Get It Run The Jewels

[Verse 1: El-P & Killer Mike]
Penny ante your bets up, any sanity left? (Nah)
Any chance for humanity's landing on who's the next up
Hope we handed 'em ammo enough to work from the neck up
Those who handling damage control don't wish us the best luck
I'm a living in smoke type
Floating with a grin over the moat type
Harry Allen on you bitch, I believe no hype
Closer to the edge than even we want to admit
If this don't go right, then assholes like myself are proven so right
All I got is this rap shit, all I want is a castle
And to move like a man with a minimum of harassment
The company of women with opinions and fat asses
That's my list of demands, you don't answer them, get the Gatling

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
I'm stuck in a time capsule when rap was actually factual
Meaning shit you spit might cause killers to come and clap at you
Stupid, goofy, stooly, the gooch in Gucci will slap you
And that go for the cop-kissing cats that's in the back of you
They all sweet as Little Richard, damn, good God al-Molly
It make a nigga like me go "Woo!" and rob the party
I exit stepping with my weapon with the Jefferson walk
If you expressing any objections, you can get left in chalk
So my suggestion's let a G be, forgive my transgressions
Or I'mma be in Catholic confessions, professing depression
I'm chin checking, chill stressing, on your button I'm pressing
Mike'll fuck a rapper's life up like Mo'Nique did to Precious