Tame One - Eastern Conference All Stars Lyrics

(feat. Copywrite, J-Zone, Cage, Mr. Eon, (Mad) Skillz...)

Yeah, uh, Yeah, uh (Formaldyhide salmons)
Northface gooses, South Orange Avenue producers
Eastcoast is the loosest (Yeah)
West district is ruthless (Boom Squad nigg-uh!)
We leave you toothless (P-P-P)
Eastern Conference All-Stars, ah
Ghetto Stars (Like this)

[Tame 1]
The hip-hop Anthony Perkins, constantly merkin
For certain, excuse me - y'all say for sheez-ay
Dogs like me be like "We want Eazy!"
Tame 1 be talkin greasy, this became a D-Day
Burnin more rent lines than eight major freeways
My motto is 'F*ck you, don't follow'
Skirts who won't swallow, or get stunk tomorrow
Oh well, I still can't tell, you actin beat bitch
Beat it, no secret, I'll merk you half weeded
My bars are like Zanex's
Broke it down to fours, they bring down yours
Encyclopedia Brown, kick it in punk!

[Copywrite]
This no-suggresive artform, none of you bastards want it
Cuz I don't paint on a canvas, I slam rappers on it
Laughin at clowns with they demos, passin 'em out
Pass it to me, get it tossed to the trash with a smile
Bad Boy, with a long barrel that's all narrow
+Shyne+ behind bars like Jamal Barrow
You got a cast-iron stomach?
Let's see how strong it is when I cock this and blast iron from it
You flow sick, but too slow spittin your coldest
I'll come up with a cure before any symtoms are noticed
You tryin to shit on me - it's a dream
I got a way with words like alphabet soup on a triple beam

[J-Zone]
You want a free verse, your label was a joke from the start
You want a free beat then put a stethoscope to your heart
You want free dick then baby go back to your ex
You want free advice chump, shave the back of your neck
I use threats over money so deejays won't play my jams
Internet B-Boy's want to know what race I am
Black, white, or Spanish, you figure it out
Learn how to rhyme off mine and take your dick out your mouth
It's 'bout to get ill in here, so stop starin bitch
Old Man Big in there, Christina Aguilera's pimp
UPS is hiring so close the trap
Cuz my old gym techer ain't supposed to rap

[Cage]
I went to my grandmother's funeral, f*cked up in a rush
Stood over that bitch, spun embalmin fluid fiendin for dust
My baby's mama taught my daughter to ask for paper
Told her Disney World blew up, so I ain't had to take her
My engineer's a dominatrix tryna master me
My outer-body experiences got dead cops after me
How my anit-pop records get played on TV?
The explaination's the same is why you hate on E.C.
So don't be alarmed when you see me and my soundman
holdin a firearm, stompin some bitches for a ???
If my ex tries to come to the show to dumb out
I'll make the crowd beat the f*ck out of her 'fore I come out

[Mr. Eon]
It's Julius Err-ving, with wordsling
Mics inverting, f*ck all you stupid earthlings
Y'all could shed light, if y'all were the sun
Wipe the cum off a head and take a gold off of mine
One top could never invade my paradime
See propoganda paphlets through the ascinine
Trounce with mic-stands, jump over techniques
My soul got caught up in mom's ovaries
No angel on my shoulder just two devils
Feeding chemicals, pushing blood past legal levels
It's the accomplice who's too obnoxious
To accomplish, leavin you rookie f*cks astonished

[Skillz]
Yo it's the G-H the O the S-T White
A conversal with me, shit that's like talkin to fire
If you touch it it burns, and you don't wanna do that
You could talk to it all day and it won't talk back
I still battle niggas so scrap ya plans
I ain't gotta be in promotions to rap ya van
Cats 2-way me all day to deliver a hit
But I ain't writin shit down 'til they deliver some chips
If B.I.G. was here, he'd say I was "Dead Wrong"
Cuz I don't get on the radio and say verses that I said in the song
It's Mad Skillz muhf*cker the V.A. don
E.C. emcee, AKA Shaquan

[Camu Tao]
All my niggas buggin out, wasted on drugs
Talk shit nigga, thug it out, ya waitin on guns
Cuz I'm a dirty nigga that likes the guts cut up
And put my hands in the heat until my fingers burn up
And pick my teeth with the remains when the bodies turn up
I'll stay rotten, stay plottin on ya bitch and her c*nt
AIDS victim, stickin my bloody dick in the cup
Cuz I'm hotter than the bobbins and skillets in ya momma kitchen
I'm even hotter than the f*ckin seat the Devil sits in
Cold shoulder niggas get blazed forever
And your heat'll never happen like rubbin to wet sticks together
You fags wanna fight and shoot its whatever...