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celph titled & buckwild - hardcore data lyrics

[hook: sample]
“the microphone mutilator with the hardcore data”
“with the hardcore data with the hardcore data”
“the microphone mutilator with the hardcore data”
“with the hardcore data, because i spit on spectators”
“the microphone mutilator with the hardcore data”
“with the hardcore data with the hardcore data”
“the microphone mutilator with the hardcore data”
“to mash m-th-f-ckas like potatoes”

[intro]
yeah, celph m-th-f-ckin’ t-tled
the god d-mn ‘hardcore data’
m-th-f-cka…

[verse 1]
the microphone mutilator, i’ll bruise ya crews and neighbors
do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
(are you a buddha blazer?) yes i get zooted major
and all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
i got the smoothest flavor, makin’ moves, movin’ makers
off the roof, who’s to save ya? (who’s the savior?)
celph t-tled the rubix ranger (playa)
scoopin’ paper, when i’m doin’ capers
and what’s inside this bazooka case’ll shoot a crater
in ya screwface and dufus g-yfers
my ruthless anger got animal in the zoo behavior
the uz’ll spray ya, lose ya body in a lake
or tombs and chambers where you’ll consume fumes and vapors
(huh-hah) we mash f-cks like soup and potatoes
it’s true we’ll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
sooner or later, fine-tuned parachutin’ invaders’ll
tear through ya winnebaga, wearin’ suits and aimin’ aero-fusion phasers
ain’t talkin’ mules and acres
i’m filmin’ movies in bermuda on a cruise to jamaica
i’m a front tooth eraser, you’s a booty shaker
and you’ll be found in a pool with barracudas and gators

[interlude]
yeah, you know what the f-ck it is
still on top, man
it’s the m-th-f-ckin’ grand daddy grenade man
y’all know me, man
f-ck y’all!
check it, yeah

[verse 2]
i’m too real, ill, still will k!ll
no frills, no gold grills, hold still, hooker-ho, chill
i know you smoke krills, you shouldn’t go ’til
i throw you out the mobile in mobile
alabama in a pile of ants in pajamas
surrounded by a thousand salamanders
i’mma bust a round of cannons off
camoflauged as a satanic santa claus
ain’t another man that’s raw, you should turn your cameras on
’cause i’m bringin’ the blammmer sauce, the bl!cker oil
the trigger boilin’ hot from firin’ shots, i’ll spit it for you
i promise you that, ask momma who’s back
the m-th-f-ckin’ montezuma of rap hollerin’ brraatt!
and that’s the way it goes down, you fraudulent foe clown
i’mma put ya skull in the dryer and watch it go ’round
(“oh my god!”) i’m salutin’ one for y’all
no more shootin’ guns at all, i’m boostin’ the sun from god

[interlude]
b-tch -ss m-th-f-ckas
you thought i was gonna stop doin’ this or fall off?
yo, y’all get back, man
everybody get back, man
hold up man, this is celph m-th-f-ckin’…

[verse 3]
so, so, so when i walk in the club with black jeans and a white tee
you’re on a walky-talky callin’ security: “hurry please!”
it’s celph and he came strapped, bringin’ so much pain that
you can’t get enough novacaine packs
so insane in fact, i was held captive
by unattractive cave women overdosed on proactiv
(“yo this that sh-t!”) from the dynamite stick expert
with bottle rockets, i flirt with hotter objects of s-x
and they flex in my bedroom
legs spread thick, redhead b-tch, boom, with no freckles
she was actually half black / icelandic
i might land in spanish, italian, french
or whatever the f-ck airport they got
at my mansion the size of a marriot, yes my rhymes are very hot
wear a vest ’cause when my cds are pressed
they fly like j-panese ninja stars and they’ll injure y’all

[outro]
“i dare the little punk to try to diss me”

[lord digga]
i told y’all m-th-f-ckas
that’s hardcore, b-tch n-ggas
y’all not hardcore, m-th-f-ckas
we buckwildin’, yo buck
you know you hardcore, n-gga
hardcore tracks
bringin’ sh-t back, f-ck that, yo

- celph titled buckwild lyrics

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