Primo's Four Course Meal Lyrics

[Intro: Celph Titled - talking]
Hahahahah. Celph Titled. The motherf*ckin' landmine lieutenant
Back up in this biznatch fo' sho' do'
Sammy The Sleezebag. What's good pimptation?
I'm 'bout to show you what happen to MC's that can rhyme
I'm right here. We ain't go no motherf*ckin' where
We gon' do it like this. Check it, yeah

Stand back you heard
Sir murders occur
My verbs are disturbed
My curse words are hurtin' your herbs
Alertin' the service bringin marines with kerosene flasks
Guns and masks J
Jumpin' through glass with sick 229's and mp5's
I rapid fire bustin' spray men
When I was a baby my pacifier was a grenade pin
And yes I'm from Tampa
No I'm not a Buccaneer
But I'll be buckin near your main arteries ya f*ckin queer
The sun is here
Cover your eyes
All my attributes is dangerous
My mustache is murderous
My hip bone will send your clique home
With they ribs blown back and they wigs sewn to they six pack
Cartilage in a gift wrap
My cartridge's click clack
And leave you and your bitch clapped
Now ya bitch ass need a neck brace with a chin strap
We swing machetes at crews with little ice picks
And niggas round my way call me the Cuban Missile Crisis
My raps not for emo kids
My flame thrower leave you bald head like chemo kids
I ain't a gangsta and a gentleman
I'm one of the two
Don't open doors for bitches
So which one do you choose?
Playboy
Make you steak sauce
A-1, you gay soft
Not Travolta, but what's in my holster take your Face Off
We about to cake off
My money stacks make the rubber band snap
My number runners gettin' bundles with no government tax
Ain't no 20-80 split
Better give me half or you can get your jaw split
Courtesy of Vinnie Paz
A.O.T.P. or D.E
M.I.G.O.D.'s
Either/or with C4, galore, the heaters pour
I got the fever for
Thick skeezers and a need for whores
She got an Applebum, so what the f*ck we need Bonita for?
Rappers try to pull my cards I gave 'em a shuffle
Guttermouth took they bodies so I gave him a shovel
Runnin' ten laps in a second when I'm rappin' on records Came in the game in '98 and I'm already a legend
Back in the day me and Dutchmasive, schemin' just to get in
Now we slingin' wax from 8-1-3 to the Kremlin
Hook line and sinker
My hooks and lines will sink you leagues under the sea
Up my sleeves up under the fleece
No tricks just a loaded piece
Chrome heat
Put you in a coma sleep
With a comb over to cope with holes in ya cheek
And I don't care if you worship
I'll put a bullet in your temple
Leave you bent and crippled
Wife and kids get sentimental
Ya best soldiers incomparable to my b-team
f*ck Nas mission impossible be my "Thief's Theme"
Each beam I aim multiplied by eight
You gettin' f*cked on your album and gettin raped on mixed tapes
Sidekick with a flipped face and targetin' system
Heat vision like the Predator
I'm slaughterin' victims
The harder I hit 'em
Nigga the better they know
Call up the reverend and we bringin holy shit to your show
These holy clips leave you holy split
Every hoe I hit
Get baptized in holy water comin out the hole in my dick
I stay holdin' my dick
You thought I wasn't one of them
Spittin' phlegm on Bibles in God's crib right in front of Him
I'm Iceberg but not Slim
More like this hyper shit that sunk the Titanic
That irreversible damage
There's no recovery possible
No nurses no hospitals
No stuffed bears and get well cards
Just Celph spittin' Hell's bars
You grew up on a farm with the Amish gettin' they goats from
I'm from the dirty south but I'm clean so call me soap scum
I'll sell the same shit twice
Double dip it and re-up
I ain't married to this rap game
We ain't signin' a prenup
You up late watchin raunchy cable
And I'm a creep behind your couch
And crack ya motherf*ckin' skull on the coffee table

[Outro: Celph Titled - talking]
And that's that you f*ckin' you crack rats
64 bars like it ain't nothin'! Primo what up?
We bring that real shit back that raw shit. You heard the word?
Yo, better say cheese motherf*ckers. Before I squeeze motherf*ckers [x3]

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