El-P and Despot: Selector Freestyle lyrics

Song starts at 4:42

[Verse 1: Despot]
I'm going ham, I'm going cheese, I'm going bread
I'm going sandwich, hold that famine, b*tch, I'm fed
I'm going so over your head you should eat something else instead
When I blow up only hope that the explosion leave you dead
Take cover, the mother of all mothers
Of mothers of all mothers is coming and don’t love you
Run for it burn rubber, the 100 hit wonder
That come with his own thunder that rumbles and oh brother
The block snuggles under the covers and starts snoring
The streets ain’t watching no more, you’re all boring
If Queens says run it, don’t jog, walk, or crawl it
You breaking bread that’s already broken I can’t call it
Fake the funkers fed up with frontin', should back off him
Shake the leg of vultures, take off with your Air Jordans
I take your head right off your shoulders it’s fair warning
Got the game sealed like a walrus in the thesaurus

[El-P]
Happy to meet you, limped here from a shattered town
Grew into a firefly, shining where the shadows drown
While others sit in sin we limp in unison like cattle prowl
I legitimately signify how all us bast*rds howl
Point out to another man who’s longer held the haggle down
I’ll point you out a priest who never preached to Peter Pan and Pals
Wink wink, now that’s an automatic party foul
Like cleaning out the bong with Bigfoot’s tossed out sanitary towels
sh*t, I’m not crying wolf until the moon is out
Ducking silver bullet clips, pull the flesh off grills in strips
What a sin, play the full grip sip gin and spin
Moolah of a wasted man, pull the trigger click and grin
Better have your floaties on, tighter than a gastric ring
I’ll drown you in your soup of peers, fill a baby pool with tears
I see you all in hell and flames, I’m chasing city money
Cyclone in the summer, ride my di*k until you’re sitting funny