letra de meathead - bishop nehru
[verse 1: mf doom]
i sip a hot tea, watchin’ archie flip on meathead
and left the page rip torn writin’ what the beat said
on the mic he’s heat-red, ghetto and street-bred
all crooked d.t.s and feds can eat
lead, wheat, and gluten free, he is who he is, is who he be
mind your biz for me
it could even help you in the long run
what good’s a song if the jawn’s no fun, son?
shogun, invisible armor level 5
couldn’t penetrate the bomber with your llama, stay alive
playin’ jive, beamin’ on the telemetry
old enough to be your uncle, prime time mc
although prefer the term “rhymer”, third-timer
slurred word primer, dime a mama
and make sure it stay tight, it’s only right
on the daylight and the night life, they bite trife
from thug to bug to happy-go-lucky sh-t
ask him, do he really give a f-ck-sh-t? tuck it
no ice bucket list, suck it
struck a nugget, duck, kid
[verse 2: bishop nehru]
when i die, f-ck it, i guess i prefer me goin’ to h-ll
because earth is truly the same, so the difference i’ll never tell
he send it like it’s the mail, captain bishy set his sail
excel like microsoft on all of these other fails
his trail never derail, his mental’s the holy grail
as the stress gets released from the simplest of inhales
it’s sealed from all the chantin’, it’s like he’s holdin’ up a strike
the mic’s his only light, [?] my only vice
advice is like a satellite, i see them try and dish
feel i’m dyin’ in the skies, i’ve been grantin’ this kid’s wish, it’s
kinda ridiculous like thoughts of saint nicholas
breakin’ in, leavin’ gifts for all the world’s underprivileged kids
quit with the ignorance, the emperor’s legitimate
and learn to never give a sh-t
they never gettin’ it, i’m makin’ it clear
all the haze took focus as these jokers appear
i been acceleratin’, i already know where to steer
he save face, no brakes, i’m just peepin’ the rear
and i been livin’ out of love, they livin’ in [?] fear
i change ways, i’m cruisin’, but never changin’ the gears
they say that he back; actually, i been at it for years
dreams the side-view mirror, they closer than they appear
just beware of the emperor, i play the game’s vendor
he raps wes anderson, directin’ these beginners
too ill-strious, i leave the sucker [?] to the pretenders
made tenders as i played simba
n-gga, that’s dinner
i remember when my shine was a little bit dimmer
now it’s bright, and the light, i leave em blind from the shimmer
they tryna play the [?]
…
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