Interpret:

Fort Minor

Album:

We Major (Mixtape)

Yo, swing the sword for the classic year 
Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear 
Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air 
Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair 
What's up stupid? Shoot this 
1-5-1 in the shot glass, Hot flash 
Banging on the drum, huh 
We cause havoc down in Las Vegas 
Paper trails racing Pelican Brief-cases 
We outrageous, name the streets gave us 
Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers 


I let them all fly, 10 in the clip, 1 in the chamber 
Thumbs up! Another banger 
Untuck the flamer, dumbfuck 
It's like getting hit with a dumptruck 
Brains and guts 
Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff 
Get you cracked up like cocaine, heat 'em up 
OK, I'll let a sucka's fly once 
Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch 


Uh, malpractice - a bang-all jam 
I joust rappers and track in the radar scans 
Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons 
Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh 
Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem 
Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon 
What's up partna, I got ya (what, what) 
Hope that spoken gunshots crack the pinata 
Slap, box, mouth of backwash 
Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? 


Set the pace like a mustang, mashin' 
Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash 
Dropped on a blood-stained mattress 
Stop, you ain't got access, watch 
I'mma change my asset, Ryu and Tak 
You little cunts in the game, you can suck my cock 
Lay flat on the ground don?t make a peep 
If you want the stains out now, get the bleach! 


Get the bleach 


Guess who's got the rubber gloves and the bleach? 
Guess who's rockin every club, that's me 
Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets 
Keeping it knockin', drop drop that beat 
Guess who got the group name on top? 
S.o.B. got the rap thing locked 
Who want what, when, why, and what not 
Who got next up, Ryu and Tak 


Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click 
Bloody brains on the sand with a Miracle Whip 
While the blood keeps gushing, relish and pink mustard, huh 
I'mma slam till I tear it to bits 'til the bell for the recess rang 
On the defense game, you feeling grilled like P.F. Changs 
Hopscotch on the corpse till I drop the torch 
And burn crews for their views that would rock with force 
Saying, don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem 
Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon 
What's up y'all, we don't stall, come one, come all 
'Til we drop the ball like 


Get the bleach, get the bleach