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a history of violence - tiger-style lyrics

[intro: the etherealist]
yo, history of violence
murder on the f-cking dancefloor
representing abq: rodney rush
representing the uk: oldboy
tear this f-cking mic apart, dawg

[verse 1: oldboy]
it’s the corellian flying millennium; contact with aliens
et and elliott; your telly news is irrelevant
master of many elements with a revered eminence
your verse is feminine: spoken word with sentiments
gentlemen, please make way for the mental son
as i enter and step in the centre, i’m dropping [?] bombs
it’s like clockwork; your style of rhyme does not work
i’m hotter than the centre of the earth with every verse
disperse words, serve hurts; perfect, superb verbs
never conserve words; i’ll leave your nerves hurt
you’re a pervert: family guy mr. herbert
never touching the bourbon: only poison from [?]
f-ck urban; i’m subversive and dead certain
any emcee who steps up, it’s f-cking curtains
just south of the wall in the north is where i’m lurking
more imposing in person than the bt local serpents

[verse 2: the etherealist]
it’s the first-born warrior, the curse-lord foreigner
force you to the depths of the earth, like mines of moria
i’ll slaughter ya, pull your sh-t out all through your neck
you’s a f-cking wreck. b-tch, you dial-up: you don’t connect
you best respect: it’s ether on the mother-f-cking trizzack
got more rhymes under my belt than rocks of crizzack
i been that beat blaster, a f-cking disaster
in battle, i kick more -ss than a grand master
i’ll smash ya, a mechanical lyrical cannonball
i’ll make you wish for f-cking death like you was aaron paul
the ghost of harrenhal, kick your -ss through the moon door
you sound like you been taking your rap lessons from hodor
you and your fat b-tch like gorillas in the mist
when i’m p-ssed, i’ll slit your sh-tting wrist. the etherealist is
a g*nius like gza. my finger’s on the trigger
i’ll leave you with less d-ck than a f-cking action figure

[verse 3: in2ition]
b-tches find my smile vile; still ask me to stay awhile
i be working tiger-style; my stacks be unbelievable
hov feature rodney rush; what the f-ck be up with us?
oldboy now be linked to us; do all this while staying hushed
to sink in this game, we’d have to die or be mamed
our names are linked to this sp-ce; in all our holes, there’s an ace
haters be hating our case cause we do it all with such grace
the rest of the rap rat-race can’t do this pace: slow down!
in2ition be lingering in the ether; who’s better, neither
we both as sick as each other; we don’t take a breather
be stabbing rappers in the back like they caesar; only difference is they don’t see us
we’re teasers. we blast, we causing seizures; we been cast as the best
we’re better than the rest, so don’t ask, just accept. feel our wraths
but feel blessed that at last we have a music contrast that surp-sses the past
which we p-ssively use to wipe our -sses
[but wait a minute cause we get in it for the m-sses]

[verse 4: rodney rush]
(rodney rush: your boy, man)
(break bad on ’em, homie. you already know)
what comes to mind, well it’s beautifully poetic
a stone has been cast to the m-sses; the m-ss is heavy
m-ss hysteria only blinds the people who don’t get it
bet it’s headed for your mind: don’t let it
people try to slow me down; my rhymes break levees
i’m a finisher. product of the game: check the credits
i’m gone fill my bank account up; yes, debit
i don’t want a dollar unearned: no credit
why? when i got sk!lls to fill the ozone with it
touch-down: catch me in the end zone grinning
celebrating the score while the hunger for more enters
i’m sitting here digesting while focused on your dinner
i’m a beast to say the least; i’m gone leap: don’t quiver
while gnawing on your bones, the medicine man enters
i’m cold like shutting off the heat mid-winter
or like taking over souls and sending bodies down rivers

[outro: rodney rush]
i think we gonna get along well, man
i have a history of violence too, ya dig?
big-up to your boy jak n0ble; you already know
you reach out man, sometimes you get what you want in life
i’m rodney rush, aka combo, and i’m with that history of violence
break bad on ’em, homie
tiger-style. f-ck it: lion-style. f-ck it: liger-style
i’m just f-cking witch’all. much love though
rodney rush: your boy, man
never stop grinding. get yours, man

- a history of violence lyrics

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