1. |
Motorcade
02:11
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Hop in with knowledge of all that's canonical
Waffling on until monocles drop into coffee
Kinda phenomenal, noshing on novices
Oddest of hominids, offering homonym omelets
Awful anomalus
Lawful or not, hip-hop is a mosque
And I'm an imam in it
Might pop your thermometer
Quaffing Hpnotiq and copping a guap of the conifer
Proffer the conical bomber that fathered the moniker
Fuck up your monitor
I'm a blossoming sonic colostomist
Banana Fostering all of 'em
Nastradamus, Foster Wallace on top of it
This ought to demolish 'em,
Opulent, copping Lagondas and shit
Slaloming all on a song and appalling 'em
Popping a document off at the hip...
Uh, I think I can change your vibe
Robbed the German plug, I think I'm in Danger Five,
I think I can change your vibe
Robbed the German plug, I think I'm in Danger Five...
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2. |
Against Nature
01:49
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Ayyo,
Marijuana Pot Man,
What's up?
I'm in that salmon pink hammock
My Cabernet tannic
Heckler in my hand tan ceramic
Declan McManus
Spanish ham, canisters of anise
Jet to Venice
Get Greenwich-level lettuce
Beveled edge, Cleverley
Redzepi-level chef, never dress tepidly
Red Stetson
Double-breasted Ed Sexton
Ten tentacles and twin Tecs
Consider them shits akin to Windex:
A quick fix; and I'm finna win next
When I flex, I'm a little bit morbid
I just left the jewelry store with a tortoise
My slacks are crafted out of Styracosaurus
The diamond on the tie tack is orange
A more ingenious scene setter than your set's seen yet
...Whatever bread it begets.
Okay, you know the difference in totem pole distance?
My whip came equipped with a Poggenpohl kitchen
My lips slicker than linseed
Ellipses
I'll leave your lid lifted, then I dip to Poughkeepsie
I'm Pimp C mixed with Kim Peek, capisce?
I'm a beast, a hedonist in need of a niche
And Faberge made the cane, so, you see, it's antique
Best believe when the Reefer Man speaks
Peace
Yo, Pot Man, we out in Luxembourg, baby...
I got my hands on something you would probably be interested in.
Call me back.
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3. |
It Ain't Me
03:49
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Might see me posted up at Dobra Tea
That overcoat is aubergine
Loafer with the Coca-Cola hosiery
You know it's me
I'm known to throw opponents in the Nova Scotia sea
I flow precociously, and don't a motherfucker know it
Shining my cap toes with Moet
Look down and the tell me who's the fairest (Reefer Man LaFlare is)
My jargon is the rarest
I park it on your terrace and darken your Arc'teryx
Eric Ripert's how the hair is
Ballin' heiresses, sippin Apollinaris, I'll embarrass all who merit it
Carrot-tinted whip like a scarab with the carapace
Cherry for the innards
Rippin' up some terrapin for dinner
[Hook:]
If you're looking for somebody who can hold you tight
Who can walk you to your doorstep each and every night
It ain't me, baby
It ain't (yeah, it ain't me)
It ain't me (I said it ain't me)
It ain't me
Remi, Remi, Remi, Remi, Remi gettin' reckless
All black stones in that all gold necklace
Nas told me that it's mine, so I'mma get it
Fuckin' Frank Abagnale couldn't check this, so check it
Front same color as the thirties that the coupe is on
Chartreuse deuce, thirty for the accoutrements
Couple screws loose when Remi's gettin' his loopin' on
Run up with that 38 and I'mma get my Lupin on
Doin' business to the whole percentage
Count it up, cold cream, couple million, yeah, word to Guinness
Gyokuro I'm sippin' look akin to spinach
Left hand holdin' on that dirty Grimace
Tux Italian, Jag British
Well received cask of that Glenfiddich
My hoes know Finnish;
Your hoes don't finish
Remi coachin' bitches like an open scrimmage
[Hook]
I might just
Cause your glossary to vanish
Hunting coats Austrian to Spanish
Walk to me with mantis hands
Pants are Fanta-can tinted
Remi sippin' on that Dimetapp
I'm tryna chat with Iris Apfel on the Dynatac
That two-buck Chuck Bass
I'll have 'em baffled when they try to nab
Bashful when they find the gat
Mashburn on my back
You need a Heimlich when you try to rap
I got a hell of a spiel
My coat rack goes from Shar-Pei to elephant seal
Keep Benellis in wheel wells to perforate your Pelle
Wet you up and speed-dial a deli
Okay, step back and scope a better view
Left two Pettigrews' sweaters soppressata-hued
I'm that inventive dude your future flow's indebted to
Stuff your girl like a Peppadew
[Hook]
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4. |
||||
Misty in the biscuit-tinted Fisker
Miss me with that shit that isn't glistening or whiskered
Risky: what the business is
Wrist is a chameleon
Mister Mephistophelean, but feel a little crisper
Ain't a myth in which I'm not a fixture
Espada shifter
Trader Vic colada sipper
Slip your sister a tawdry whisper
You got the picture...
Whipping something with the trunk in the front
Slump gave me something skunky to accompany lunch
So with a Bunsen I lit up
Blunts in abundance and hit up
Huntsman in London to pick up a little something to stunt
I got the tongue you can trust
Most don't talk about it
Guillotine a beat; bow it down; gouts fountain out it
Dressed like Eddie Hayes, my machete blades never break
Sprinkle game every day
Yeah, I got the dried pheasant garnish
Get up on my level: cop the bezel with the garnets
Neck and wrist drip like Pen & Pixel sent a missile in
My pen is listed in the Michelin
Fifty on on the ink I've written this epistle in
Slick as glycerin up in the nib, I'm glistenin'
Blisterin'
Dismiss 'em with iridium
Slip into the Chrysalis and dip
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5. |
Fabergé and Limoges
02:50
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Aw, shit.
Oh, shit.
Marijuana Pot Man...
Wassup, baby?
It's getting real hot out here,
It's getting real hot out here...
Let's do it to 'em.
Prepare the spot
Y'all compare me to a theropod a lot
Panera pockets got me terracotta Lobbs
Spot me opposite the parasol, tarragon and lox
Heir to Tom Lehrer, Terror Squad, Pac and Darabont
Spot a baller blocker and I'm cockin' thereupon
I'm a walking bearer bond
I'm clockin' 'em, Barry Bonds
I'm that motherfucker Marijuana Pot
Okay, my flow colder than a bomb pop
Show up in a blond fox
Braun watch
I might drown when I lick her up, call me Bon Scott
Got her looking something like a Cinnabon box
Mister Jimmy John Pot, I been slayin' 'em hoes
My teeth are antique Faberge and Limoges
Bitches come state to state just to play in my clothes
Tell a motherfucker what I say and it goes
Too many furs in my coat: I can't go past zoos
And if she's no nomad, I'll make your hoe mad too
Who got a topaz tooth, and gold leaf on every talon?
Keeping green tea by the gallon?
My trou' lethally endowed, beat the beat around a bit
Seize a counterfeit and breeze 'em out quick
The Marijuana Pot Man, goddammit, I'm the shit
Got that embryonic salmon on my wrist
I flipped every Naugahyde divan at auction, hammered off of Schlitz
Atlanta shoppin', rattan walking sticks
Anaconda grips on them shits, tan Lagonda shift
Caught wind of me and thought I was a myth
I keep 'em ill at ease
Fillin' up manilas with a mill' apiece
Milanese filigree, Florentine silk
Spill a motherfucker with the quarantine quill, then I..
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6. |
The Chase ft. Slumpdeem
02:52
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Citroen, rolling up a spliff,
Dime mixing with the piff, get a beep up on my fifth line
Seems as if Smith had nearly got the co-sign
Finished the twist quick, 'cause clearly it was go time
Brakes are fake; the new plates don't get used
The crystal tint, like the print on Grey Goose
I'm halfway there on the dash, like 8-2
The last three letters on the gas: B-L-U
Cornu Blu, I pour no blood when punctured
Quarter mil for Marijuana's Slump verse
Man, he been managing Mars
Way he been handling bars
Send me the money advance
That's an incredible charge
Xzibit ain't pimp it, but trunk is fitted for samovars
Marijuana Pot hopped in and said "it's hot!"
They let off a shot
I get off the brakes
Statham when they chase 'em, i'm Jason
Remi Iron briefcase holds the escape gun
Many trying and failing just to erase them
Lost the heat, switched the cartridge on the DS2
This ain't a game, Marijuana's got to be there soon...
They got me like
Doggone it
Pajamas on, popping off subsonic rounds, hopping out the Saab Sonett
Bob Munden on the shot
So I guess their roster wants pasta sauce on it
Left an awful lot of red gelato in my wake
Henry lever model, the semi autos are for the snakes
I've been running from the jakes, and goons in balaclavas
And they all brought Chianti and favas
To serve me, not with a cherry on top
Marijuana Pot got 'em raring to pop
Tearing the block up, the samovar tote on my wrist
Sprinting from that Overfinch Rover with the tints
Left the lobby like the Overlook
Popped a shot off
Dropped a body and took a closer look
Couldn't be the Stasi, by the cut of the coat
I need 'em out of my peripheral: "Blood of the Goat"
Gun in the cloak, smoke trailing from the hems
Quick cleanse
Citroen to the Benz, then I'm sailing on the Thames
Bailing on the gems, send Slump to get 'em later
'Bout to cop some hydrophanes south of the Equator
Yeah, Reefer Man LaFlare.
How you feeling, baby, how you feeling?
The Pewter Bullet Pistolero.
The Samovar Sultan.
What's good, Pot?
Yo, I heard they fished a duck press full of emeralds out the Thames.
I heard they found tire tracks on the ceiling at Wilton's, man.
A little bit of Dover sole for the getaway, huh?
What's good, Slump, what's good?
That avocado 450
With the almond seats...
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7. |
Japanese Squid Butchery
05:04
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Hey, man...
You know,
I've never even seen Pot Man without a freshly picked orchid in his lapel,
And something prehistoric on his wrist.
This man...he grows two inches when he takes his jewelry off, man.
I've seen him wear eight cameo rings at once.
His face was on every one.
I don't think you understand me, man.
You know, I've seen Pot Man eat a handful of two-carat rubies while looking his jeweler straight in the motherfucking eye.
Pot Man..
His British Shorthair has a Swiss bank account.
I don't think you hear me though.
I watched him extract his own pineal gland and pan-fry it in duck fat.
Then he ate that shit for breakfast while listening to Cam.
You know, it's just different.
What do you know about million-dollar malachite soaking tubs, my man?
What do you know about eighty racks a week at Gaziano,
Twisting weed up in Rembrandts and Vermeers?
*That's* just different.
You know what, man?
Don't talk to us.
Don't talk to us unless you've got Tsarist court jewelers for the dental work.
You know?
Matter of fact,
Sit the fuck down if you don't have twenty, thirty oils on your kitchen right fucking now.
You feel me?
You know, man, we were gonna do it to 'em.
Take the Benz airship
Straight to fucking Ipanema
Shit was getting a bit hectic, shit was getting a bit hot back there.
Had to hop off the radar, had to hop off the grid, man.
The nephrite jade submarine...fuck y'all know about that?
All vermilion corduroy, everything.
Bocote paneling.
Feel me?
My man Danylo in the kitchen.
Vampire squid ceviche.
Japanese bear steaks.
Spilling gyokuro on the Rubinaccis.
Got me fucked up.
I got Slump on the line,
Talking something 'bout the opposition back in Berlin.
On the other hand,
On my other phone,
I got several influential dealers back in the States
Very interested in my most recent art heist.
Fuck that, man, fuck that.
That can wait.
We got the samovar, babe.
Yeah.
And what's more, we made a pit stop in Iceland
To dig up some Actavis I buried in a glacier eight years ago.
Feel me?
Nah, fuck that, man, we're going to Rio.
Yeah...
Underwater boys.
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8. |
Houston Oolongs
04:19
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Me and Remi,
Copacabana.
Sipping on that Tung Ting...
[Hook, x2]
Sippin' on that syrup, watch my diamonds flare up
Sippin' on that syrup, watch my dollars turn up
Technicolor tech, whip silhouette
Step up in this bitch and watch my diamonds pirouette
You know my schtick
Lopin' in to give your hoe's envelope a lick
I'm at ten below for this
I might bend her over quick, then run up in her slow
Pull her head back, bust a nut up in her throat
I'm a motherfuckin' pro, so my dick ain't free
You know that Spanish Inquisition, how my whip game be
I like my top laid back
Windows well tinted
And my future bright enough that I can see myself in it
Take a minute to acknowledge it
Forgiatos on the Morgan, forty more to follow it
Collar Neapolitan
Politic up in the parking lot a bit
Got the top of Corcovado cordoned off
And I got 'em Mortoned off the quality of all of it
Get up off my dick, I'm 'bout to call up a urologist
Super in the shoulder holster, Rubirosa scholarship
French polish on the kicks,
French tips, and the motherfuckers cost a solid brick
[Hook x2]
Let me take another sip real quick.
Okay.
They're like..."why you keeping it vicuna for the uniform?"
"Why your sense of humor need a humidor?"
"Why you kick it with a tuning fork in human form
Who can whip the pan awry, kind of like a Luminor?"
Eight landaulets, pants are made of manta ray
Fuck around and paint the Phantom like it's Santa's sleigh
Supercomputer since booted through the uterus
Lucifer your crew before you clue to who the shooter is
Souchongs, oolongs, syrup out the samovar
Ooh she bad, ooh she bad, hop up on these handlebars
Black shades, brown frames, cream suede, tan cigars
Remi hold heat like a candle jar
Just got back from Zanzibar
Tripped up, slicked up, purple out the pewter cup
You ain't got the tools? No, no, no, no, you can't screw with us
Duo too aloof in the coupe with some kittens, yeah
Noodles to the tooth, I flew the coop with some chickens
Catch up
[Hook x2]
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9. |
Facel Vega
02:52
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At the age of four,
Blindfolded,
Pot Man was able to discern Berluti from Lobb Paris by the sensation of fit alone.
Simultaneously,
He could detect the individual nuances of Gyokuro teas from eight prefectures.
This prodigious aesthetic sense was both a blessing and a curse.
Since anything short of perfection caused him intense sensory discomfort,
Pot Man was unable to rap over most producers' beats.
A trait that confined his work to writing
Until he met
Remington Iron.
Make Chanel paper
28's on the Facel Vega
Shells in the Benelli 'Feltro for raising hell later
Blazing great since the shell-toe days
They hate me like I'm separating Velcro tape
But I'm an optimist:
I copped the mint chocolate chip ostriches
They cost a grip
The John McLaughlin of exhausting clips
Seen your posture from across the strip
Unlawful shit, adopted it like a foster kid
Lobster bib is often on if I've been verbing,
If you've got a spine, I'm curving it
I'll murder an invertebrate
Swerving into skirmishes
Each word a fifth of bourbon,
If I serve it, get your torniquets
Murder's what the verdict is...
Samovar purchasing
Pot Man is burgeoning
Urchin for dessert and then
Resurface in the 'vert I've been refurbishing
Best of all, I'm merciless
Purple on the stirrups and the rest of all the surfaces
You might see me on a boat made for tuna
Bait for rumors I'm moving weight, Yokozuna
Overcoat vicuña
Gloves peccary
Could never get to me, however technically
My bankroll is like a telephone directory
And I tote the melatonin next to me...
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10. |
Underworld Dandyism
04:28
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[Hook, x2]:
Armagnac with the Parma ham
Red and white Jag drop, call it farmer's tan
(I got 'em like)
"Don't harm us, damn!"
A rapper can't scare me, but my karma can
You're observing the habits of a
Dirty ermine-having, nerdy abbot
And word is that I'm maxing with the Persian cat
And having Irma nab a certain bastard who'd prefer to have me perma-napping...
(You eating good?)
Call me Alton
Rocking furs like the Baltic
Hearse with the vaults in it, all tinted
Silver straw, sipping on malteds
(Malteds?)
Halt it if y'all ain't exalting him right
The welter weight Walter White came to alter your mic
So don't falter, make a call to your wife and work your will out
I don't name a rapper's name, I just send a bill out
I don't rap for fame, that could take the thrill out
Patinated at the matinee with my grill out
Had to shake the krill out...
Man, don't make me take the quill out
[Hook x 2]
I touched polyester once, and it turned woolen after
(One time!)
My turnbacks are Turnbull & Asser
I could reach into a wormhole and back
If you're reaching for that burn, pull it faster
Jurassic amber on the handle of the blaster
Folding Cambozola, hands a mandoline disaster...
Hollow panels in the Jag, opps got me looking backward
Rast & Gasser flashing, my macassar Madagascan
Dick Dastardly, I'll have a bastard bashed in with the hatchet quick
Casper with the cash and shit
Basking on the Caspian, lavish with the fashion tip
Had to give a dap to my Rapidograph
Tapped the Ashton from the back of a giraffe
I mourned Sebastian Horsley when he passed
Orchids by the forklift, Porsches with the glass
[Hook x 2]
Yeah, you know what I'm talking about, baby,
Deep in an Andean mineshaft.
Garnets the size of fucking grapefruits.
They finally came for that samovar, man.
Had to hit them with the beat clap.
That Jurassic amber.
Yo, Pot Man,
Where's the Jag?
it's time for a victory lap.
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11. |
Jasper Hill
04:40
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I'll have the dapperest haberdasher flabbergasted
Lack Alaskan crab and Napa cabbage
Had the masterful moustaches and the habits of a Captain Haddock
A rap cat, a Zappa addict
I act a rabbit, I Radagast it
And for my cataracts, I bladderwrack it
I grab a track and whip a raptor at it
Atlas of ad-lib
See me with that tractor beam, seemingly
Reach up and I crack the attic
Erratic, masochistic maximalist
Massacre rappers with the tactical acumen,
After which I get a slap on the wrist
Mash-up of a honey badger and a black arachnid
Plunge in with the thunder of a blunderbuss and wonder how to rack the Cabot...
These other rappers' wit's alacritous as plaster casts, molasses, and a Cadillac in traffic
I'll have the radio dispatcher ragged
Pass the mic, I'll put them out to pasture gasping as I Pasternak it
Out to get that cheese like Jasper Hill and Grafton
Reefer Man LaFlare, master craftsman
Your dude's reputed to be groovy,
Supersuited doobie hoover
Soothing tuning, new maneuver
In pursuit, I whip the Buick
If I'm oozing through, my duty is to neuter 'em
Dish a scoop or two of this voodoo to your computer room
"Dude, from whom is it?"
That Marijuana Pot Man,
Kind of goofy, but the noodle is voluminous
I move into the booth atop a Newfoundland
Bitch, I'm what the proof is in...
Ha, I got em, it's the post-postmodernist Dadaist
Think of a superlative: Marijuana Pot is it
Rest assured, I'm a perverted verbal lobotomist
I come through looking clean, kind of ominous
Not a model kid, ask me where your daughter is
i'll pick you off from the top of a Diplodocus
And fuck an Audemars, I want to cop a Nautilus
Hearken to the argument I'm kicking on a lark again
I'll make a sparring partner gargle on the Parker pen
Best 'em with the cestus and resist arrest
Wrists a mess
Conventional conceptually, but lexically a bitch to get
Number two, call me Largo
Skin tone tone of Escobar's car's cargo
Keeping O's open like the star of Fargo
I go
High as Nard Dog banjo notes
Plate full of escargot, I think I'm James Carville
Really, no, I think I'm Russ Cargill
86, but I'm fucking with the bars still
I made history: Marijuana just killed
The 67 Chevy got the leather shell
The liquid L sells better when the weather's swell
And now I'm fucking with the birds like I'm Audobon
Running from the Stasi on the Autobahn
The 3.0 CSL got the bucket seats
Remember back then, nobody couldn't fuck with me?
But now I'm running from the Stasi down the Autobahn
Marijuana Pot, motherfucker, where your daughter gone?
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Alabaster Samovars Burlington, Vermont
Alabaster Samovars consists of:
Remington Iron, producer and rapper
&
The Marijuana Pot Man, rapper
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