Bourdain Lyrics

At the end of the day, I'm better than great

And I don't really give a fuck how my competitors rate

Dropped five classics on 'em, you could never relate

By the end of the year, probably be seven or eight

I'm so far ahead I could brake for the rest of the race

Take my foot off the mothafuckin' pedal and skate

They don't make instruments that can measure my pace

We ain't the same, the difference is I could never be fake

But the love is fake, so I treasure the hate

It's my pleasure to take the head off a venomous snake

I create masterpieces that get better with age

I'll craft a thesis that makes an intelligent case

For why these rappin' heathens would ever behave

In this depraved manner to gain friends and some fame

Quick to sell your soul for a Benz and a chain

But it don't make sense if you don't have no pennies to save (Get it?)

You don't have to be sorry

No reservations, crashin' your party

Circle back if they saw me

I'm about to feast; I'm famished, I'm starving

Cookin' up the beef like gourmet

We bring the heat and we torch lames

We came to eat off of your plate

You should hang it up - Bourdain

Do it with no hesitation

Might cause some devastation

White chalk and yellow tape it

Lights off; Freddy, Jason

This is how you measure greatness

Don't help with investigations

Outlaw on some Jesse James shit

Goin' off the reservation

Breakin' news on every station

Shake the room whenever bass hit

You can feel the tremors shake it

Six degrees of Kevin Bacon

Listen, we don't ever say shit

Got the stick with me like Kenny Mason (Stick!)

Hittin' trees and vegetation

When the trigger's squeezed with no reservations

You don't have to be sorry

No reservations, crashin' your party

Circle back if they saw me

I'm about to feast; I'm famished, I'm starving

Cookin' up the beef like gourmet

We bring the heat and we torch lames

We came to eat off of your plate

You should hang it up - Bourdain

You know I Kill Audio, Claudio Sanchez

I'll spin the damn block and leave a lot of ya mans dead

In a tinted Jag drop, black Glock and a black vest

Or in a black Benz that I bought from a crackhead (Listen)

I'm from a place where no fucks are given

I'll tape your death and put it on the deluxe edition

Tried to play with the big dogs, you just a kitten (Pussy)

Run up quick, you might come up missin'

You'll get filleted and fried like Kentucky Chicken

They won't know who did it, no one's above suspicion

I use my left hand to adjust the windage

I'm droppin' Def Jams like Russell Simmons

Who you know better with the lyrics or the punchlines?

I'm so clever, it's mysterious I'm unsigned

Feast or Famine, I been hearin' that it's lunch time

And if it's beef, I'ma sear it till it's done right

You don't have to be sorry

No reservations, crashin' your party

Circle back if they saw me

I'm about to feast; I'm famished, I'm starving

Cookin' up the beef like gourmet

We bring the heat and we torch lames

We came to eat off of your plate

You should hang it up - Bourdain

No reservations, let's start the show

Body parts in several places, parts unknown

No reservations, let's start the show

Body parts in several places, parts unknown

Too soon?