8 Steps To Perfection Lyrics

Rugged like Rwanda, don't wind up far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti lectures in can control

Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate, lyrically detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser

Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the grand canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon

Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wind starring as Cochise

With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act

Whether shooting joints or wax
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that

Here's what I want you to do
Niggas with the green Axe and burgundy Forerunner
Inhuman like Blade Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer

Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic

Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee

Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty
Color me Maxmillian 'cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me

As far as I'm concerned, I've got your ashes in an urn
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'ma piss it back rusty

Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right
I'm on 'em like aorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap off, welcome to my free form jubilee, look at me
The witness to the shit you wanna be

DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant
Feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state
Forerunner rep tyrannical

Wrecks like techs bust mechanical
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up
What bitch you're boxing shadows

Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll

Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like sprockets, motherf*ck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet but I'd f*ck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores

Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
'Cause I'm a thinker, evil anus letting off stinkers

8 steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked

8 steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked

The holy terror, last moves you never won't win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaican like a chin

Hot rocking corduroy, Bally's that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
f*ck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to letcha know, never do I use it

Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets

They f*ck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any type sport like the vandal

I manhandle, emcees get murdered like Tennessee
Or trapped in the bedroom with the 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'
One two three, 'The Taking of Pelham'
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling

I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple

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these lyrics are last corrected by Burkul
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Songwriter(s): Leonard Smythe, Jaime Meline, Justin Ingleton
Record Label(s): 1997 Royalty Records
Official lyrics by

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