Grey Alien Suits

[Intro: Narration and *sample*]
This just in, there was a break-in at Richard Branson's sister's mansion. Unnamed sources say that two brown men, presumably guests at Sir Richard's annual birthday party, were captured on closed-circuit surveillance cameras breaking into the Virgin Galactic hangar bay. Unconfirmed reports indicate that a prototype of Virgin Galactic's space shuttle has gone missing. Interpol and British intelligence are asking for any information that may lead to the recovery of the vessel. Sir Richard Branson made it clear however, that he will not press charges, as the two brown men were 'cool as fuck.'
"Three, two, one, zero"

[Verse 1: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Yeah, uh
Only thing I got for bitches, is hard cock and amnesia
She blew with a white dot, like Bartholomew sneakers
Your girl humping my leg? Now you cockblocking my femur
Yeah you see her, she lying, you do not gotta believe her
'Cause she got prominent features, a whole lot in her t-shirt
Look so hot in some sneakers, cold rocking Adidas
Poke, gargle and queef her, you know the type that rolls with provocative leeches that's blow-jobbin' ya' peoples
While saying her tits are real, but pardon I see the scarring and post-operative features
You hoes not gonna see us
If me and Osa was reaching, the mic we co-hogging like Peter hosting with Cleveland
Just play it low like hard bottoms and cellos, Jordan V's is my retros, joyriding the metro
We skippin' steps like bar-hopping with streakers, chart-topping with demos, God honest I said so, God-body your reefer
But since only five percent of y'all cop proper sativa
Ain't got five on it either, went bankrupt for the leisure
Since we invested in the Bob Marley center for research
With you, she uptight, shouldn't be gossiping either
You got a problem oughtta talk to ya' leaders, pop-locking with creatures
Watch ya' body parts frost in our freezer
It ain't the type of flick that ya' box office would feature
We picking pockets, crosswalking with seniors
Take aim at the youth 'cause small coffins is cheaper

[Chorus: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth

[Verse 2: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Stay caged in a zoo, ball hog with the cleaver
Stay sharp on the court, play par for the course
Got an arsenal for war like there's Spartans at ya' door
So while death's at ya' back, we stay stalking the Reaper
It's out the ballpark to the bleachers
We teach 'em how to pull cards like Hallmark workers at Easter, son
Seizures can happen if we keep on rapping, it's not proper procedure to talk back to us either
Knock knock, let's see if his snotbox is a bleeder
'Cause you dripping I ain't missing no hot sauce in my Caesar
Managed by Richard Branson, we surf the Atlantic
Feeding the poor and famished while planning tours to ya' planet
Merge with Virgin Galactic, photon ya' whole song
Traveled back in time and gave birth to this rap shit
Foolproof Moon Boots, Bluetooth goon crew
George Lucas stormtroopers, all useless, who you?
We shit on earth, so by liftoff we half as light
We orbit in space, playing skip rock with satellites
I'm asking nice, no mask and knife
Don't make us turn your puny planet's afterparties to disaster sites

[Chorus: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth

[Verse 3: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Spray-painting ya' roof, then I vacate the Duluth
Whole clique yelling shieeeett like Clay Davis's crew
If lyrics come after beats, we stack paper for Boots
So go 'head, keep claiming y'all fake statements is truth
It's, back to the basics, milk crates full of tunes
Stay caving ya' roof, make craters and soufflé you haters is through
Our tours are live as a vacay with The Roots
So if you catch us at a show, we 'hi hater' ya' crew, bye later get lost
Why hate on our floss? 'Cause we fly greater than you? Use skyscrapers as shoes?
My estate's in space so, from the tri-state to the blind face of the moon, we high raising the roof
If you rhyme great as my crew, we buy spaceships in twos, yo my spaceship's a coupe
And mine's spacious and huge, got five acres of room
You should try bathe in a pool with some primates in a zoo
Rocketman backpacks, we got that like school's in session
Our tools and weapons is ski masks for 2-11s
Three channel booster engine, pre-amps for tube compression
So lean back and leave flat like two dimensions
Can't work the boards? We give freelance computer lessons
Remix ya' cheap hits and revamp the booth you step in
Mortgage ya' storage and RE/MAX the room you rentin'
C-Span for supervillains, recap the news at seven

[Chorus: Loe Pesci & Osa]
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth
Shit ain't changed since the days of the stoop
And the labels ain't pay to recoup
Since we spent our advance paper and loot, on Grey alien suits
And tricked NASA into making the space station a booth

[Outro: Narration]
Umm, right, so uhh, this is Richard Branson by the way, uhh billionaire, y'know, I met Sam Osa and Loe Pesci at the launch of uhh, Virgin Galactic obviously you know, my spacial airline and uhh, they came wearing Grey alien suits, umm, y'know, and they smelled like uhh, copious amounts of uhh, their band name, Hindu Kush plant. Uhh, there's no way you're going to space, uhh, y'know, you have to be in top shape, you have to be umm, close to as rich as I am, umm y'know, half as good-looking, umm. You have to be able to take shits outside, on your own island uhh, to afford to come to, Galactis, as you may say. Yes uh, so this is Richard Branson, keep bumping that uhh, Hindu Kush. That's what's up