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Track: Drones over Bklyn
Artist: El-P
Album: Cancer 4 Cure

Artist Bio

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Name: El-P
Spotify Genres: experimental hip hop
Followers: 197,388
Popularity:

56/100

Biography

Born March 4th, 1975 in Brooklyn, New York. EL-P, aka El Producto, is one of hip-hop's most obstinate and adventurous pioneers, combining a mid-'80s lo-fi old school aesthetic with a progressive rock musician's inclination to push boundaries. He has never succumbed to the whims of corporate hip-hop, instead choosing to pursue his own decidedly uncommercial leanings. In the mid-'90s, he developed a strong reputation with the groundbreaking trio [a12470], a band whose achievements include the first LP, [Link], on [l1216], a label that is considered by many the best label for intelligent hip-hop. Over the group's auspicious stint together, he proved he was himself capable of intense lyricism and sonic production so powerful it could stand on its own. In the latter part of the '90s, El-P was also a collaborator with [a3270], [a5648], and [a24205]. In 2001, after releasing one last album with Harlem rappers [a28077], the group chose to amicably pursue their own directions. El-P has started his own label, [l23482], and was also selected to work on former [a12212] frontman [a64348]'s first solo album. Somehow he found the time to work on his own solo release during all of this, [Link], which saw the light of day in May of 2002.

Source: Discogs

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Release: El-P - Drones Over Bklyn
Year: 2012
Genres: Electronic, Hip Hop
Styles: Conscious

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Source: MusicBrainz

LYRICS

You better stay aloof when the troops move or suicide booths soothe
The who's who of looters shoot, the bullets go zoom zoom
Your pain is the porn, pal, they pay to pop plain shit
It's faded, it's more foul than famous, it's hot sin
Hollywood off the bus fucked, tender little destruct tucked
In the waist with a gold face, feed the greedy with dum dums
You and me in the butane, supe a lame and he puffs up
Little dragons of fad rap, suture their face the fuck up
Walk in the zone or get less, wake in the fog of fright night
Eat where the sifters sell trash, sleep where the orphan's hell hatched
Pardon me son I'm zoned out, cloned out
No doubt home is, blowed out
Sold out without extra man bonus
Tragedy smurf smirks, a middle man's shirt bursts
Wetted up, wet work, you get it up, get murked
A wabbit in crosshairs, mechanical fox hunt
Be quiet they're hunting now, the method is awesome

And I can see them in my eyes when they're closed, I can feel them at night
I can feel them plot a course through the sky, I believe in their flight
Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
[x8]

You can hear calico ultimate point at you
Click clack and back 'em to bunny dust point of view
Hardy har, funny stuff, tough cookie boy
I'll be sure to bring my bitch-bib-sloppy-eat-flop-around-clown-shoe getup
Kids sing along, this is all we have left bitch, sing a song
I was born conjoined to howlers of the siren age
Lion cage meat life sacrifice, nothing left
Tell me if it matters that I sing it wrong
Another DJ yells "Lick the balls"
Another Brooklyn kite delivered in his crooked paws
I'd sooner wash my dick in acid than ask what you think
I'll fuck myself with a stun gun before gassing your team
You patch me in and I'll dumb out with a channeled disease
It sucks to be nothing, nobody struts when they're down on their knees
This whole rackets for the bees, fuck my life already
Fuck the law, fuck the sun, say goodnight already
You fucking spam-bots selling shit, alright already
We get it you getting that fetti, oh Jesus Christ already

And I can see them in my eyes when they're closed, I can feel them at night
I can feel them plot a course through the sky, I believe in their flight
Drones over Brooklyn
Dr-Drones over Brooklyn
[x8]