Pew Pew Pew

[Intro: Killer Mike]
Let me hear you say Run The Jewels (Run The Jewels)
I'm a rider and provider and I don't tolerate ho shit
I Bun B out on emcees meaning I obliterate yo' shit
Man, every time I try to like a rapper they turn and do ho shit
Make me ski mask on they a-a-ass, run they jewels and mo‘’ shit

[Verse 1: El-P]
You looking at the guy who the guy that you think that I got my style from got his own style from ('Sup?)
I came with a sly wink and a shit grin with a pimp limp and a foul tongue
I'm a Brooklyn son, set adrift in a chemtrail sky
Bad guys knock when the doors are locked, I got no shots left, better prep for God
Not long, he'll be talkin the same shit, I am just impossible
Got a right to be hostile, motherfucker life is a coffin, layin' down in it ain’t awesome
Every single moment you spend in the dirt is a worse time than the last moment, own it
We all know you don't know shit (No shit)
Me and Mike will straight write your obit

[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
And the obit goes like this: "Here lies a punk bitch, real fuckboy type
Who never want shit, 'bout as soft as his momma's own tit
And sensitive as his old lady's clit", real bust-out bitch
She fuck my clique, obscene, absurd with the words
I cleaned up curbs with the blood and the bones of you nerds
I kill with the mic and murder with words
I'm known on the corners where murders occur, I cruise in the verse where murderers lurk
When god in the building, who they gonna hurt

[Verse 3: El-P]
Not a butterfly, bunny, bee, bird bein' hurt
Got a third-rock-from-the-sun claim for the turf
Never learned how to love, gimme brain then it burnt
Yeah that hurts, but at worst it will already start
With a curse in the heart that'll hurt til it's worse

[Verse 4: Killer Mike]
Brrrr, stick 'em, brrrr, stick 'em!
Let that four-fifth turn and twist em
If they all died tomorrow wouldn't miss 'em
I pray death come quick and kiss 'em
If he need help I assist him, follow?
All my tips is hollow
I could kill your ass today
But right now I’m playin' Grand Theft Auto
Rain check, I’m gon' come through your hood
And just shoot your ass tomorrow, Brain dead
Scattered over the hood of my old lady’s brand-new auto
Man, knew I should have kept it G and drove my Monte Carlo
It go like this if Shay gets pissed
I shoot your ass again tomorrow
Bang!

[Verse 5: El-P]
Okay, I’m an asshole, kiss me (good luck!)
Break a leg in a bear trap, skippy
Wasn’t in class when the lunch bell rang
Due to Colt 45 plus smoke got shitty
Mike already a help assist with me
Tag team of the goddamn century
I never asked for shit, it ain’t in me
You go to work now, but the style haunts history
No doubt I’m a dick, fuck with me
Liberty bell's cracked, the cops aren’t kidding
The rabbit in the hat is all deaf now, innit?
Came for the freedom, stayed for the prison
Came for the women, stayed for the money
Presidents are better when dead to feed tummies
You came for the brains, but you stayed for the fucking
The money’s by the side of the bed, it ain’t nothing

[Outro]
(Q-Bert!)

[Scratches by DJ Q-Bert]