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flavour - training season lyrics

[intro]
uh…can you turn up the flavor on my headphones when i spit on the mike?
louder…adjust the levels…ok

[verse 1: gp]
champagne victorian, sitting in a delorean
sporting an all white suit, a historian youth
i’m restoring the truth but shawty telling me
she only wanna ride in the coupe a bit more
and just stay on the path that we headed
en route to the top of these radio booths
but i’m trying to make waves larger than philippine typhoons i’m not concerned with shooting hoops
or getting stuck in the loop
like majority of underprivileged black youth getting
cuffed and stuffed in the back of a cruise
see i keep shooting for the moon like these terrorist troops
i’ll be-headed to be bedded with three elegant slus
be better with booze, i see better in two’s
let these veterans choose to lead the new movement
who is gp with an arrow and a bow-legged b-tch?
looking for a new fix for the moment
let’s get back to the basics
let’s put gats in their faces with acids and bases
i’m faced with a pyrex dish cooking in a new pot
spit crack, meth lab in the basement
he’s the master-crafted -ssailant and b-st-rd aristocrat -ss-ssinating rhythm via lyrical ambition
while these pussies run away like missing cats

[hook: king caexar x q x gp]
(come check my) flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record, flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record

(come check my) flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record, flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record

[verse 2: king caexar]
and i reckon there’s some gold that’s trapped in this bering cousteau so i scoop like herons with some herring
niggas beckon like a pedo tryna lure an adolescent off a stoop to get em nude for a second, this tongue is used as a weapon since i’ve proved to wrap tighter than new era denim
tempest gotta nigga chained and tied to the hook like dominatrix dungeon, place filled to every cranny and nook
like jenny craig b-tches plates at a luncheon
flow lewd and repugnant, that’s renal juice that’s abundant pissing off these b-tches, golden showers from the brethren barehanded, he’s a savage, only time i ever spoon
is when i fuck in a cuddle with ya b-tch in a minivan
stuck in a puddle, so the whip sits slanted
mud-blooded so a couple leave enchanted
rooms flooded when the flow sits stagnant
bursting bubbles going deep like k-ssem
sticking em like gecko on that wallpaper pattern
fists thrown at random like the backhand of parents
pissed they caught a hint of sarcasm
plenty sc-m with cerebellum, on the street, but
hoodlums never dream to get to beat on these conundrums
i’m raps edward enigma, defected from stigma
with lyrical golems, he’s an awkwardly nigga
with bodily figure of ritual totems
livers we douse em in liquor
so niggas is looser than smuggler colons
so how is he bigger? when it’s been lopsided
like these nuts that’s hang inside of my scrotum

[hook: king caexar x q x gp]
(come check my) flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record, flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record

(come check my) flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record, flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record

flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record, flavour salt and peppered
my needle scratch the record

you and me are not the same….

- training season lyrics

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