Esoteric — Attack lyrics

The page contains the lyrics of the song "Attack" by Esoteric.


I didn’t come for the case, I came for your boss
I came to Sheamus, I came for him
I never left, don’t you see?
I attack, I attack
Counteract, cardiac, cardiac
I attack, I attack
Counteract, cardiac, cardiac, cardiac
We represent if you let ‘em
Wouldn’t bite if you pet him, it’s just the way that they bred him
You don’t want to test him
Afrikan Bambaata or bless ‘em the dog n daughter or dead ‘em
I’m John Lennon combined with Spidey n' Venom
Meaning if the beat ill, I’ma downtown swinger lethal
Real lyricist for your people
He affair when he launch, could launch a row in the Bronx
I’m Biggie in the booth this is studio we haunts
They call you big leash, you always had the bite but ain’t got my appetite
I’d google raps if I was looking for a parasite
Or better yet the Eiffel Tower at the Paris site
I threw with butchers in ninety degree fahrenheit
But peep it I keep it a hundred when I grab the mic
I keepin' it ten when I’m at the light
I let the beats bang let my nuts hang
Dead to rapper’s life, motherfucker
Check out a show coming applaud, I make fun of your squad
Turn around and raise money for dogs
I hear voices in my head but it’s you some and god
You authentic like Nigerian Prince fraud
Crush the same beef so my gauls I can’t speak
I got a lot of shit on my plate like all-terrain chiefs
All remain discreet, on your block, empty out
Optimus Phryme’s the only time you pull a semi out
Is there really any doubt as to who be the best?
E to S, lethal yes, creature double feature fest
Papered up like teacher’s desk, so we don’t
Need to test you like the panic button
When we rhymin' you should be depressed
Your rap money got a flat tummy eatin' less
Fuck your hood and street address I’ll spit it east to west
For the drama for the beef like a piranha teeth
But I’m for the kids like every time Michelle Obama speaks
Embarass rappers like they fucking up live
On Shade 45 spittin' freestyles they should have memorized
Strike before the chorus I write with no thesaurus
You, riddle mics like raising stripes on a Ford Taurus, you bore us
Get outta here, walk away, walk away, just get outta here