Wax, RUSSELL! - Air Timpani lyrics

Elements, this beat is off the effin' chain
Music yeah, throw your hands up
Herbal T, throw you motherfucking hands up
EOM, put your goddamn hands up
D-Pryde, put them motherfucking hands up
East coast, put your goddamn hands up
West coast, put your motherfucking hands up
Midwest, dirty south, throw your hands up
Whole world, hands up, come on

Feeling like I was possessed by the devil
A misled mind of a desperate rebel
Tryna get money but I'm going
About it all wrong
Day in and day out I'm pumping out a raw song
Tryna to give y'all a small
Touch of the realness
Tryna show all of you ducks what the deal is
Couldn't give two fucks if you feel this
I'm already hungry
What's another meal missed?


Concerto of a growling stomach
Trying to out-climb us and
You bound to plummet
We just lounge on the summit
Overlooking all the peasants
Laughing at how they ain't even
Aware of our presence
And with every sentence
The march gets louder
And drowns out all the remarks of a doubter
Yeah, let 'em all speak hate
Tell 'em all get a plate
Let 'em all eat cake, bitch

Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we playing air timpani, ayo
Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we do it like dum dum dum dum

Ouch, dagger to the heart
I've demonstrated swagger from the start
I moonwalked out of the uterus onto the table
Me and Herbs did the Kid-N-Play before
They put us in the cradle
Your boy is not stable
Fresh off the pot like a boiling hot ladle
I'm old school, fucker, ya boy just got cable
And I ain't even trying to
Join the top labels
'Cause, I ain't trying to
Be something I ain't
Lick my taint, you can feel me like dry paint
Yeah, 'cause it's a well known thing
That every song these days is
A cell phone ring
And sometimes I wish I'd try
To sell those things
But, it's alright like the Saved
By the Bell opening, man
I pull a reference out my
Ass like a dingleberry
Simile samurai, words of Mike Singletary

Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we playing air timpani, ayo
Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we do it like dum dum dum dum

I rip strong, spitted on shit songs
Bitch, your shit's wrong
I'm ill like Kim Jong listen, check
You be lying when spittin' reps
Talkin' 'bout your click-and-clack
Shut it, man, that shit is wack
I don't think we're on the same page
I'd light you on fire and bring
You back in the same stage i still kill
And you better get your necklace checked
You're better off to ask Rihanna for an SOS
I spit dreck and I'm all day, mate
Spittin' lines at your eyes
Like Kanye's shades
Check it, a live wire, yes, I'm a fly diver
My lyrics are the shit concentrated on
High fiber
You're stressed and bitchin', homie
I think you're best to listen
Rest and churn right before I deck
You in your digestive system
You better listen and you better pay homage
And haters, you get the rectal thermometer
Motherfucker

Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we playing air timpani, ayo
Make way for the symphony
We got a short supply of sympathy
When EOM drops the beat, man, it's history
Fuck a guitar, we do it like dum dum dum dum