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[Killer Mike:]
Bunches and bunches, punches is thrown until you’re frontless
Oodles and oodles, bang bullets at suckas’ noodles
Last album voodoo, proved that we was f–kin’ brutal
I’m talking crazy, half past the clock is cuckoo
You rappers doodoo, baby s–t, just basic boo boo
I’m Shaka Zulu, Mansa Musa, my money buku
My beats is bangin’, f–k what you rappin’, who produced you?
I slapped the snot, take what ya got and Run The Jewels you

[El-P:]
You itsy bitsy furry fright and frickin’ sickly
A little prickly, d–k on display for Winter swimming
Look at these kitties, 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 they stuck in a fist and gun position
We run our brand where destruction’s the number one commitment
It’s all a joke between mom contractions and coffin fittings
So we disappear in the smoke like we’re f–kin’ magicians


RTJ Block

[Killer Mike & El-P:]
No hocus pocus, you simple suckers been served a notice
Top of the morning, my fist to your face is f-king Folgers
We might be giants, standing on little dandy shoulders
You punks is p—y proverbial pansy panty holders
I Jake the Snake ‘em, DDT ‘em in mausoleums
Macabre massacres killing c—s 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

[El-P:]
I’m the foulest, no need for any evaluations
I’m a phallus for Johnson and Jimmy spraying faces
Any cow that is sacred will get defaced
Like any tyrant murderer gets replaced, face it
The fellows at the top are likely rapists
But you like “Mellow out man, just relax, it’s really not that complicated”
Well pardon me, I guess I’m just as sane as you explained
Or maybe sanctifying the sadistic is deranged

[Killer Mike:]
This Run The Jewels is, murder, mayhem, melodic music
Psychotics use it then lose it, junkies simply abuse it
That’s word to Phillip Seymour Hoffman, I’m pushin coffin
I probably smell like a pound when they put me in a coffin
The gates of hell are pugnaciously pacin’, waitin’
I give a f–k if I’m late, tell Satan be patient
But I ain’t here for durations, I’m just taking vacations
And tell ’em fuck ’em, I never loved ’em and salutations
The manuscript Blue Lines is the fictional coming of age narrative of a young California woman Key Yemaya Walker, and her 2 year growing journey through school, love, and life period piece, written by Kenneth Suffern, Jr., taking place at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill between the years of 1997 – 1998. Loosely based on true events, and experiences during that time, told through the eyes and voice of the main female protagonist, a freshman first attending the school.

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