7l - Call Me E.s. (Feat. Esoteric)

I cool out on the west coast, lamp in the east


If your rappin for change, then I'd be dancin for peace


A pretty boy gangsta with his pants in a crease


Spike the Berrier, spike the campus police


Now I don't give a fuck if it's your aunt or your neice


Best man or ya priest, your fam's gettin deceased


Cuz I keep shit hot, like a flannel or fleece


And bringin dimes this way is sand to the beach


Relax to the sun, I get harrassed by the ton


Want to beat you for money son, I'll smack him for fun


I represent the east baby, that's where I'm from


I'll smoke you on the mic, and blacken your lungs


I keep my girls close like I'm packin a gun


By the foot of my bed, where my jacket is hung


A callabo, I don't see it happenin son


And a battle, I don't see you lastin through one





[Hook]


I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base


And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place


Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case


I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race





[Verse 2]


I'm ready to wreck ya, sever ya sector


Speak of my hands, just let the 7L lecture,


Don't put it past me, like your the firearm,


And I'm the metal detector, I'm here to protect ya


My rhyme is the paint, and the beat is the texture


Interrior design, when I rhyme I affect ya


Say it's amazing, +Trail Blazin+ like Drexler


In my act, you play the bad wreckin extra


Sorry homeboy, didn't mean to upset ya


You wanna grab the mic, but your hand won't let ya


Cuz it knows that if you do, you'll go home on a stretcher


Call the ambulance on the cell to come get'cha


I do this type of shit right here, just for pleasure

Stress relief, wait 'til my next release


I'll be hittin every station like a press release


7L & Esoteric, hip-hop expertise





[Hook]


I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base


I see 'em tryin to take a lead as I rock the place


Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case


I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race





{scratching - 'They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh'}





[Verse 3]


I smack the new jacks just to add to the stats


My massive attack leaves your anatomy flat


I'm not mad at you black, yo I'm gad that you rap


As a matter of fact, cats are ? wack


Now your askin for that, maybe a pat on the back


Yo I'll tell you your phat, and sound phat on that track


Then I'll show up, where ya have the factories at


Grab a batterin axe, you start to shatter ya gats


And that'll be that, make sure everythings workin


I get heads open like a, brain surgeon


When I came splurgin, veterans became virgins


First they wanna battle but now, they ain't certain


Rhyme like a tech nine, it's the God-offilis


Clappin on command like a studio, audience


You could take a dope sample, chop it up or loop it


But still can't freak it like Joe, some cats proved it





[Hook] 2x


I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base


And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place


Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case


I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race





{scratching - 'They call me E.S. the Overlord of Fresh'}