Phonin' it in

from by The Grammar Club

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lyrics

Buto bumpin' Weezy and Yeezy up in the ocho,
like Fiddy said I'm finna put the game in a chokehold
Yo, I'ma Chris Nolan it, never be in-phoning it
And owing to my focus I'm dope and the shit
Coping with the dopes and the dips
Whole flow is a bit cocoanuts
Oh, ayo, I'm so, so cold but a bit over it
Listen, you're fucking wack. That's right, you suck at rap
So I ain't up for daps or a bucket of hugs, blaggard
You fucks are getting gutted and stuffed with a cut cabbage
I'ma serve it to your crew up on Stickam, fool
Or slap a turkey-ass rapper back to Istanbul (swag)
Yeah, I don't fuck with a weak scheme
It's why I'll even leave and peep and creep on your street team
And geeks fiend for every free Buto release
Seems the beats'll keep 'em licking it up...like Khajiits preen
Fuck nerdcore, I'ma kick it in the dick, bruh
This is for my hip-hop cat, his name was Tikvah

Cause you've been phonin' it in, boy
you phony baloney
is as does,
why don't you buy me a pony?

With you talk about your power and your money and fame
"Yeah I'm back. Yeah I'm back" It's a goddamn shame

Yeah I'm back. Yeah.
Back phonin' it in

So many quarters that I hold in my sack
I'm phoning all my homies, sadly they ain't calling me back
I'm in the DangerRoom to level my stats
And I don't never ever slack when it comes to these tracks
And don't ask about the last Jack
Stumbled like an asshat
Your punchlines are a joke, like your rhymes should have a laugh track
Don't have to tell me 'bout your mountain of swag, and
Save your city, I don't care where you're at, man
But when you rap like this- cause you wrote it
On a paper in your basement save amazement when I say to yoke it
It's like you get too deep and try to sneak another weak cliche
Like your fans won't make a peep, and ya creep
Like sneaking candy in your pockets out the drug store
You're not a legend in this game, not like rap has got a Rushmore
Once more, it's like you are the king of the worst
And if we're both nerdcore, I hope they hear me first
I click game above the waist, I get my face in outer space
I'm on pace to save the human race
No need for thanks, I'm saying peace

Cause you've been phonin' it in, boy
you phony baloney.
Is as was.
Why won't you leave me alone, yeah?

All your talk about your power and your money and fame.
Nothing bad that you had drove you insane.

Yeah I'm back. Yeah.
Back phonin' it in.

Try harder - otherwise, honestly, why bother?
My zygotic efforts all like "why I oughta"
My psychotic episodes, highs and pathetic lows
Ready, steady, wait a minute, no - let it go
I feel pitiful, my cipher is hypercritical
My political stance comes out in rants but I can't fit it all
Into the origami of a cogent thought...
They think it's all behind me but I hope it's not...
I need the service of a RoboCop rebuilder
Grow-Op weed killers, my photoshop needs filters
I'd be iller if I could call in work to sick
Stall this circus with flawless perfectness
Wait, no... perfectionism is the curse
That has me living in reverse and imprisoned in the earth
Getting burned by art, poems and hard luck sucks
My smartphone's charged up... here we go

credits

from Bioavailable, released March 8, 2013
Guest vocals by Weedlord Boner-Hitler and Jesse Dangerously.

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The Grammar Club New York, New York

Above art by Hex (zombiehiphophex.deviantart.com)

Album art by Ricky Henry

Additional site art by Art League Houston

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