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Correct Call Me E.S. Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: 0-9
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7l & Esoteric
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Correct Call Me E.S.
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Lyrics:
[Esoteric] Aiyyo, 1-2 Yo yo [Verse:] I cool out on the west coast, lamp in the east If your rappin for change, then I'd be dancin for peace A pretty boy gangsta with his pants in a crease Spike the Berrier, spike the campus police Now I don't give a fuck if it's your aunt or your neice Best man or ya priest, your fam's gettin deceased Cuz I keep shit hot, like a flannel or fleece And bringin dimes this way is sand to the beach Relax to the sun, I get harrassed by the ton Want to beat you for money son, I'll smack him for fun I represent the east baby, that's where I'm from I'll smoke you on the mic, and blacken your lungs I keep my girls close like I'm packin a gun By the foot of my bed, where my jacket is hung A callabo, I don't see it happenin son And a battle, I don't see you lastin through one [Hook:] I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race [Verse 2:] I'm ready to wreck ya, sever ya sector Speak of my hands, just let the 7L lecture, Don't put it past me, like your the firearm, And I'm the metal detector, I'm here to protect ya My rhyme is the paint, and the beat is the texture Interrior design, when I rhyme I affect ya Say it's amazing, +Trail Blazin+ like Drexler In my act, you play the bad wreckin extra Sorry homeboy, didn't mean to upset ya You wanna grab the mic, but your hand won't let ya Cuz it knows that if you do, you'll go home on a stretcher Call the ambulance on the cell to come get'cha I do this type of shit right here, just for pleasure Stress relief, wait 'til my next release I'll be hittin every station like a press release 7L & Esoteric, hip-hop expertise [Hook:] I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base I see 'em tryin to take a lead as I rock the place Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race {scratching - "They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh"} [Verse 3:] I smack the new jacks just to add to the stats My massive attack leaves your anatomy flat I'm not mad at you black, yo I'm gad that you rap As a matter of fact, cats are? Wack Now your askin for that, maybe a pat on the back Yo I'll tell you your phat, and sound phat on that track Then I'll show up, where ya have the factories at Grab a batterin axe, you start to shatter ya gats And that'll be that, make sure everythings workin I get heads open like a, brain surgeon When I came splurgin, veterans became virgins First they wanna battle but now, they ain't certain Rhyme like a tech nine, it's the God-offilis Clappin on command like a studio, audience You could take a dope sample, chop it up or loop it But still can't freak it like Joe, some cats proved it [Hook:] 2x I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race {scratching - "They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh"} [repeat until end]
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