Das Racist, El-P - Shut Up, Man lyrics

Yes please, test me
Nestle chocolate mix con leche
Isabelle Allende, no comprender? (get it?)
White niggas with djembes
(oops) white bitches with hair spray (oops)
Which way did he go? Slim Jim? Tempeh?
Or Henny or Penny Lane or feather brain
Cheddar cane, leather interior range
Inferior Timothy Leary estranged theories
Of nearly insane
Bleary eyed beardies whose gained sheerly by
Years of the same fears
It's weird to the same ears whose careers
Is to aim spears at the gears in the chains
And weird to the ears of the lame
Squares of the gear and chain set
Who perusing their tame losers approvingly
Name truthers to losers of
Games blibbity blibbity blop
Hideous all bark, no bite
Mama said, "don't fight" Papa say "yeah


Right" sister in the dark with a flashlight
I'm walking through the park
In the lamp light
I'm a shark on the lamb with the
Land mines, darts in the damn eye of the bull
The mouth is the eyes of the soul
The soul is the ass of the brain
The brain is the back of the train
Back of the bus
Acting and such, crack, discuss, act with us
Or pack it up
Or slice the price to twice as
Nice and jack it up
Who gives a fuck what I'm talking bout?
Walk it out, knock em out the spot
Let em talk it out
Do the wop, baseball bat, all that
Fall back
Give a fuck about what you wanna call that

New school Terror Squad, Tarragon
Terror gods little white bumps on gold keys
People act like they know me
Finna go back to the old me
People act like they know me
They say I act white, but sound black
But act black but sound white
But what's my sound bite
Supposed to sound like?
I think I sound aight, I sound tight
Ey El, don't worry bout how I sound aight?
Wanna make enough to send to
Cousins in the motherland
And Planned Parenthood at home
Which is my other land
Confused, wish I had a hovercraft to crash
I'd love that man
My brother man said I could cop
One for a hundred grand
A hundred grand is all I need
A hundred is enough for me
Enough for me to twist some weed
Make some funnies with my beats
Some more money with my G's
Half a million in rupees
Ya'll know Heems, I ain't bougie
Dig my dookie if you feel like poopie
Addicted like Pookie that pussy
Do something to me yo, my man
You ain't funny, you Robin Williams
You got me all mad
If you doubt I spit fire you probably a drag
Mrs doubtfire, you probably all sad
Probably wack like Affleck in Hollywoodland
I probably would land on American Bandstand
If I was from back then and not a tan man
It's Himanshu, who could it be
In that red Budweiser hat, who but me?
White dad swag, my seeds change the world
Don't have kids, you're not that ill
Too much greed in the world

You can see hilarity ensue
Polarity rule truth
The street meat feed youth
The boogie men bend rules
Elite scene double breast monocle men move
When backroom blood boils the
Ink dries quite smooth
Dim lights might prove
To bend eyesights oooh
Eyelines obscured, skyline's removed
I'm fine, and you? Fine like sinew
In arm outstretched, inject in you
The flash mob holds hands
Chants "we want food!"
Cargo bay loads, the drones just hit Mach 2
Burner hatch opens, the drone stops drops two
Like kumbaya bitches - you
Flash us? Flash you
Fuck us? Fuck that, burn air, vaccuum
Now there's a hot flash for that ass babe
Achtung yeah I stay guerilla mouth
Pouncing the block, true
Come on it's the way of things
Relax act cool
No habla Inglés, only hobble, break disgrace
Kick punch run pause piss repeat delete trace
No option to talk it out
No route labeled 'escape'
Flame your fuzzy friend crunchy
Plus cuddle with hate
El-product plucking the little wings
Off your fly shit
Ants under the magnifier fry quick
Pinning back eyelids
Gaze upon the god that has subjected us
My whole squad's Federal Reserve
No checking us