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Run The Jewels

Genres: Hip-Hop

Blockbuster Night Pt. 2 Lyrics - Run The Jewels

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 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 buku 

My beats is bangin', fuck what you rappin', who produced you? 

I slapped the snot, take what ya got and Run The Jewels you 

 

You itsy bitsy furry fright and frickin' sickly 

A little prickly, dick 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 fuckin' magicians 

 

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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 colosseum 

They all actors, giving top in back of a BM 

I'd fall back if the casting calls are ending in semen 

 

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 deface'd 

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 explain'ed 

Or maybe sanctifying the sadistic is derange'd 

 

Photos 

 

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 fuck 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 

Writer:

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