Drones Over Bklyn

El-PEl-P 

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El-P

El-P (originally known as El Producto, born Jaime Meline, March 2, 1975) is an American hip hop artist and entrepreneur from Brooklyn, New York City. Originally a member of Company Flow, El-P has been a major driving force in alternative hip hop for over a decade. He is the co-founder, owner and CEO of the Definitive Jux record label. El-P is also a member of the Weathermen and art collective Cardboard City. more »

Year:

2012

5:49

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 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!

You better stay aloof when the troops move or suicide booths soothe
The who's who of looters shoot, the bullets go zoom zoom
Your pain is the porn, pal, they pay to pop plain shit
It's faded, it's more foul than famous, it's hot sin
Hollywood off the bus fucked, tender little destruct tucked
In the waist with a gold face, feed the greedy with dum dums
You and me in the butane, supe a lame and he puffs up
Little dragons of fad rap, suture their face the f*ck up
Walk in the zone or get less, wake in the fog of fright night
Eat where the sifters sell trash, sleep where the orphan's hell hatched
Pardon me son I'm zoned out, cloned out
No doubt home is, blowed out
Sold out without extra man bonus
Tragedy smurf smirks, a middle man's shirt bursts
Wetted up, wet work, you get it up, get murked
A wabbit in crosshairs, mechanical fox hunt
Be quiet they're hunting now, the method is awesome

And I can see them in my eyes when they're closed, I can feel them at night
I can feel them plot a course through the sky, I believe in their flight
Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn

You can hear calico ultimate point at you
Click clack and back 'em to bunny dust point of view
Hardy har, funny stuff, tough cookie boy
I'll be sure to bring my bitch-bib-sloppy-eat-flop-around-clown-shoe getup
Kids sing along, this is all we have left bitch, sing a song
I was born conjoined to howlers of the siren age
Lion cage meat life sacrifice, nothing left
Tell me if it matters that I sing it wrong
Another DJ yells "Lick the balls"
Another Brooklyn kite delivered in his crooked paws
I'd sooner wash my dick in acid than ask what you think
I'll f*ck myself with a stun gun before gassing your team
You patch me in and I'll dumb out with a channeled disease
It sucks to be nothing, nobody struts when they're down on their knees
This whole rackets for the bees, f*ck my life already
F*ck the law, f*ck the sun, say goodnight already
You fucking spam-bots selling shit, alright already
We get it you getting that fetti, oh Jesus Christ already

And I can see them in my eyes when they're closed, I can feel them at night
I can feel them plot a course through the sky, I believe in their flight
Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!