weerd science - fuck you and your filthy a&r department lyrics
-ahem- um, yeah, we’re gonna… we’re gonna try somethin’
a little bit different here. it’s really fast.
the boy oughta rap but you don’t get attack
i talk about my flow but i’m n-body’s head
don’t forgot to get jack when you come around
talkin’ ’bout how you’re gonna put it down
no more, no less, know it’s complex, try to get these concepts
sounds like nonsense but it’s not ’cause deep within the content
you gonna find out that you can’t hide out
or make sense of the science, open the fence
gonna break down the wall that’s holdin’ us
janex ain’t even know it’s over us.
we’re gonna kick you in the d-ck for provokin’ us
in the back they were chokin’ up
f-ck that slow sh-t, hold it up
truck’s out back, and it’s loaded up
filled with chicks, we can rope it up
really? well, no but i had to go put a hold under the miniature dog to get like that.
gonna make us all fall, hold steady on the front lines soon to talk
c’mon, i’ve got the supplies, you’ve got to realize
the lies the lies makin’ me revolutionize
it ain’t gonna be nice, there gon’ be real fights
they want blood, i’ll give ’em blood like in real life
they want blood, i’ll give ’em blood like in real life
dedicated to your a&r, f-ck you!
dedicated to your street team, f-ck you!
dedicated to your management
it ain’t hard to see science ain’t happenin’
dedicated to your stylist, f-ck you!
dedicated to your ceo, f-ck you!
dedicated to your publicist,
i don’t give a godd-mn if you like my sh-t, b-tch!
godd-mn, the heart of a man, been pounded on over and over again
stuffed in the sock in the mouth of the one who was saying it. -gasp.-
this little rhyme is my moment of zen.
so don’t pretend for a second my skills are adolescent.
have a moment of silence for every mic that i’m wrecking
i reckon you should take a second, think about whose sh-t you reppin’
i ain’t lettin’ it slide, i’m trying to forwarn you.
rappers, a place to hide your gun, they talkin’ for you
your vest might be bulletproof but i guarantee,
that as soon as i see you, i’ma spit right through it.
oh, i’ll do it. you’da never knew it.
but inside of my body the heart of a juggernaut
bababba and nothin’ can stop me
you don’t like my record, dude, f-ck you!
oh, you don’t like my sh-t, man, f-ck you!
you don’t like my record, eat a d-ck
’cause weerd science just doesn’t give a f-ckin’ sh-t!
dedicated to your a&r, f-ck you!
dedicated to your street team, f-ck you!
dedicated to your management
it ain’t hard to see science ain’t happenin’
dedicated to your stylist, f-ck you!
dedicated to your ceo, f-ck you!
dedicated to your publicist,
i don’t give a godd-mn if you like my sh-t, b-tch!
somethin’ got to give in the city i live
please don’t shoot up my house, sh-t, i still live in my mom’s crib.
givin’ it all in spite of what people say
what they do, man, they laugh at me but aw, f-ck you
it’s simple, rip up these motherf-cker’s credentials
it’s essential for a rebel to never settle in battle
over and over until he gets killed in the thick of it
man, i may be white but you be dumb, stupid think i’m chicken sh-t
kickin’ it and rippin’ it bring your sh-t to the ring
i’m fixin’ to sicken it the way i spit it, sick of this bickerin’
man, itchin’ to get a motherf-ckin’ rhyme off
yeah, it’s weerd science motherf-cker ’bout to sign off
you don’t like my n-gg-‘s record, f-ck you
you don’t like my n-gg-‘s sh-t, f-ck you
you don’t like my n-gg-‘s record, f-ck you
boy you don’t want none of this motherf-ckin’ weerd science, b-tch
dedicated to your a&r, f-ck you.
dedicated to your street team, f-ck you.
dedicated to your management
it ain’t hard to see science ain’t happenin’
dedicated to your stylist, f-ck you.
dedicated to your ceo, f-ck you.
dedicated to your publicist
i don’t give a godd-mn if you like my sh-t, b-tch.
man, f-ck you!
how ’bout i come out of this booth and straight knock your f-cking feet off? f-ck ’em.
this is weerd science up in this mother f-cker. yeah, for real. i’ll come out this sh-t
and straight whoop you like… like… a baby seal! f-ck you. you heard. f-ck. you. b-tch.
did you really just say you were gonna knock his feet off?
you’re god d-mn right.
oh, dip!
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