Flying Lotus - Between Villains Feat Captain murphy Viktor Vaugh Earl Sweatshirt

[Verse 1: Viktor Vaughn]
Vik, the wild islander, bringing out the child in ya
Singing out the silencer with more violence than "Heil Hitler"
He get some looks, some bullshit roll-over, a dusty pullover and a Pulitzer
A must we bust your crusty subwoofer sista
Foes is just bluffin', clear your nose from huff-puffin'
A glutton for bludgeoning blood gushin', here you go, stud muffin
It’s nothin', get it on the get-by
Bet it on a dead guy, jet it on the red eye
Too many make mistake fillers, not enough live wires
Too many fake killers, and jive sires
Dropped these bombs on a critic from a grass knoll
Everybody got one, your mom's is a asshole
S.O.B. and smug to the utmost
Cut it close and catch a slug to the gut Mos, word to Thutmose
What's worse, clutch your purse close, lady
We get more cheese bread for the baby, toast to Grady, one-eighty

[Verse 2: Earl Sweatshirt]
I'm in the cut looking for some puss to pick apart
Dirty like us riding in the whip that really isn't ours
Storming out the door, don't press record, I hate my fucking voice
Trying to kill that noise, performing fill that void slightly
I'm swimming in water that's been dicy since landing
And I'm owing these niggas nothing
Like all that I've been handed for free, don't pan your cameras to me
Ho, don't command me to speak
Got these little niggas swinging from the banister, on Fax in his pajamas
Walking slow because the camels keep his stamina weak
And you could catch him like some halibut after a bad accident
Trying to get jaw-jacked right where the catheter peeks out
Villain, Earl, and Captain in command of your street now
Rapping good as motherfucking janitors sweep now
Getting business handled, get the cannabis cheap now
It's a bunch of nuggets on him like it's sand on a beach towel

[Verse 3: Captain Murphy]
Captain's back (Yay!)
So go on put your mic away
(Where?) Inside a microwave (...Oh.)
When I die, I bet you Mike'll wave (tee-hee)
We blowing bubbles at the pearly gates
Took a selfie with the king but only see my face
I’m writing darker pieces in my thesis
I’m hiding in the park with all your nieces
Tradin' head for Reese's Pieces
Interject in niggas' verses with this book of witches' curses
I cast a spell upon your bitches but my thirst is for the hearses
I’m spilling out my innards
To these n-words, journey inwards
Caught her quarter past the moment
Got a cord of past opponents
In a fragment of a moment man I killed that rap then owned it
Hope to overtake the planet, with my banana in a hammock
Bitch manic parents panic, I’m a mechanic with these patterns
Propagandic with that chatter, matter of fact the Madder Hatter
Never mind the hammer, manners out the window
Pump crescendo, puff the endo, I’m Lou Ferrigno
Just pretendo, don’t ask him where the pen go
Cause the pencil got me paper paid and paydirt made them paint her
With the mask and faded sweatshirt, nothing lesser
Bet you’ll never ever guess what I left under the dresser
Hid a message in the 808 to pester all the Heshers