The group disbanded in 2000 after Bigg Jus had left in 1999. As a duo, El-P and Mr. Len released another instrumental album called Little Johnny From the Hospitul, after which each of the elements pursued their solo projects, El-P expanding the roster of his label Definitive Jux and Mr. Len giving life to Dummy Smacks Records.
Bigg Jus started up the label Sub Verse Music which temporarily became a distributing point of conscious, independent hip hop. Currently Jus is living in Atlanta, having released several solo and collabo records.
In 2007, the two Co Flow lyricists temporarily re-joined on stage at the CMJ Music Festival in New York. The 10 year anniversary re-issue of Funcrusher Plus, to appear on Def Jux (and for which Co Flow were supposed to be recording new material) has been delayed.
Eight Steps to Perfection
Company Flow Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Rugged like Rwanda don't wind up far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate lyrically
detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the grand canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that
Here's what I want you to do
Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade
Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee
Verse Two: El-P
Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty
Color me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me
As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'mma piss it back rusty
Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right
I'm on 'em like they're on pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap on, welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me
The witness to the shit you want to be
DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant
Feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state
Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up, what bitch you're boxing shadows
Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll
Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores
Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
Cause I'm a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
BJ Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked
EP Eight stpes to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
Verse Three: Bigg Jus
The holy terror, last moves you never won't win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaicin like a chin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to letcha know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
They fuck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any type sport like the vandal
I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw
Massacre one two three you're taking and tell 'em
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple
The lyrics of Company Flow's "8 Steps To Perfection" are dense with meaning and wordplay, and offer a window into the complex worlds of its two MCs, Bigg Jus and El-P. The song is essentially a showcase for their skills as lyricists, with each verse showcasing their unique style and flow. Bigg Jus's verse is full of metaphor and allusion, using vivid imagery to describe himself as "rugged like Rwanda" and "wide open like the grand canyon." He also touches on themes of power and control, comparing himself to a devil and a crook. El-P's verse is more abstract, with references to science fiction and pop culture. He talks about space travel and black holes, and drops a number of references to movies like Blade Runner and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Throughout the song, the MCs emphasize their skills as rappers and their dominance over the competition, while also touching on larger themes of oppression, struggle, and creativity.
One of the interesting things about "8 Steps To Perfection" is the sampling used throughout the song. The beat is built around a looped vocal sample that repeats throughout, giving the song a hypnotic, spiraling quality. The chorus, which repeats the title phrase "8 steps to perfection," is also sampled, with the "8 steps" line taken from a public service announcement about fire safety. This juxtaposition of everyday sounds with the MCs' often surreal and abstract lyrics creates a tension that runs throughout the song.
Line by Line Meaning
Rugged like Rwanda don't wind up far or get chopped up
I am tough and resilient like the country of Rwanda, so don't mess with me or you'll end up in a bad situation.
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
I move swiftly and aggressively, just like baby urine that needs to be cleaned up quickly.
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
I leave my mark on the walls with my rap lyrics, like graffiti artists leaving their tags.
Organized graffiti that jizzin' can't control
My rap style is like organized graffiti, something that cannot be controlled or contained by anyone.
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I am unmatched and always ahead of the game, even racing against the devil himself.
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
No demonic style or technique can match or defeat me.
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate lyrically detonating
I am explosively powerful and destructive with my lyrics, from one thought to the next.
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser
I am so intense and fiery with my music that it chases away those who can't handle it.
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
I use my graffiti-like rap to disrupt and destroy the harmful influence of drugs in urban areas.
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
I want people to wake up, see the truth, and change their ways.
Wide open like the grand canyon
I am completely open and honest, like the vast openness of the Grand Canyon.
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Other emcees are no match for me, even if they were hung by a powerful figure like the Grand Dragon.
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
People are desperately trying to find a style like mine, just like those searching for opportunities in Job-Corps.
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
Even when I'm released from the constraints of my work, I still steal the show and bring something new to rap.
But sabotaging me ain't easy
Trying to hinder or stop me is a difficult task.
I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese
I am unorthodox and unpredictable, just like a character played by Nathan Wick named Cochese in a movie.
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
If you mess with me, you'll get beat up and robbed, just like the character DeNiro played in a movie.
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Even if you try to insult me or diminish me, it won't affect me. I'm still a hero.
Just a small sample of the abstract
What you've seen so far is only a tiny glimpse of the unique and unconventional style I possess.
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
When I deliver my powerful and intense rhymes, it overwhelms and surprises everyone who listens.
Whether shooting joints or wax
Whether I'm using drugs or making music on vinyl records, I always give it my all and excel.
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
I relentlessly go after and criticize weak and talentless rappers or individuals who lack skill.
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap
Not everyone can be successful in the same way. We have different talents and aspirations.
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that
You need to focus on making money and achieving success because life is tough and competitive.
Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Written by: Y, JUSTIN INGLETON
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@sammie11905
Lyrics:
[Verse 1: Bigg Jus]
Rugged like Rwanda
Don't wander far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti lectures in can control
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the Throgs Neck Bridge to the Hell’s Gate, lyrically detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets into nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes ad clean out your nature
Wide open like the Grand Canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my styles like Job Corps
Coming home on work release, shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wind starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat, you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme get crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I’ll go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on 'cause it's on like that
Here's what I want you to do: niggas with the green axe
And burgundy 4Runner, inhuman like Blade Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer, just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister, feedback freak the impedance
Funk flow, we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long-range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity—your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it, causing all these crabs to flee
[Verse 2: El-P]
Check it and I inflict it. Quadra 950 lungs misty
Calling me “Maximilian” ‘cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots ‘til black holes surround me. You found me
As far as I'm concerned, I got your ashes in an urn
Big up the temperamental, holds-none-barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'ma piss it back rusty
Flesh in phonics. You're goddamn right
I'm on it like aorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap off. Welcome to my free-form jubilee
Look at me, the witness to the shit you wanna be
DBA, lyrical P, burners insipid
I’m a sycophant, feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state. Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like TECs, bust mechanical
Rusty garden weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up. What, bitch? You're boxing shadows
Look out my way, you’ll pull the breath out your battle
Breaking your double helix and now the shit is single
Not mono. I burn the needle out your phono
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll, stroll
Keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like Sprockets. Yo, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet, but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores
Got rappers tip-toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
'Cause I'm a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
[Bridge: Bigg Jus & El-P]
Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms a octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked
Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms a octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
[Verse 3: Bigg Jus]
The holy terror, last move you made was an error, won't win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
Irate when I get Chinese—Jamaican like a Chin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballies that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to let you know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cypher
Shorty the sniper, Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall-to-wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
That fuck up speaker cabinets when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word. You couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any tight sport like the vandal
I manhandle. Emcees get murdered like Tenor Saw
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chainsaw
Massacre. One Two Three, The Taking of Pelham
Eastwick, underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling ‘em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto, you’re murdering a temple
@ultra3205
[Verse 1: Bigg Jus]
Rugged like Rwanda
Don't wander far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti lectures in can control
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the Throgs Neck Bridge to the Hell’s Gate, lyrically detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets into nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the Grand Canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my styles like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release, shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wind starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat, you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme get crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I’ll go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on 'cause it's on like that
Here's what I want you to do: niggas with the green axe
And burgundy 4Runner, inhuman like Blade Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer, just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister, feedback freak the impedance
Funk flow, we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long-range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity—your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it, causing all these crabs to flee
[Verse 2: El-P]
Check it and I inflict it. Quadra 950 lungs misty
Calling me “Maximillian” ‘cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots ‘til black holes surround me. You found me
As far as I'm concerned, I got your ashes in an urn
Big up the temperamental, holds-none-barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'ma piss it back rusty
Flesh in phonics. You're goddamn right
I'm on it like aorta pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap off. Welcome to my free-form jubilee
Look at me, the witness to the shit you wanna be
DBA, lyrical P, burners insipid
I’m a sycophant, feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state. Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like TECs, bust mechanical
Rusty garden weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up. What, bitch? You're boxing shadows
Look out my way, you’ll pull the breath out your battle
Breaking your double helix and now the shit is single
Not mono. I burn the needle out your phono
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll, stroll
Keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like Sprockets. Yo, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet, but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores
Got rappers tip-toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
'Cause I'm a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
[Verse 3: Bigg Jus]
The holy terror. Last move you made was an error
Won't win playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
Irate one like a Chinese—Jamaican like a Chin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballies that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to let you know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cypher
Shorty the sniper, Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall-to-wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
That fuck up speaker cabinets when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word. You couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any tight sport like the vandal
I manhandle. Emcees get murdered like Tenor Saw
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chainsaw
Massacre. One Two Three, The Taking of Pelham
Eastwick, underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling ‘em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto, you’re murdering a temple
@hilmanahmadhidayat83
Rugged like Rwanda don't wind up far or get chopped up
Quick to rush the spot like baby urine get mopped up
Tags that spray your hall with rap aerosol
Organized graffiti that jizzin' can't control
Or level with the devil racing uptown first to Fort Apache
I'm much too much for any demon style to master me
From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate lyrically
detonating
Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's a nigga chaser
Downtown graffiti deface a heroin debaser
Open up your eyes and clean out your nature
Wide open like the grand canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release shoplifting at the rap store
But sabotaging me ain't easy
I'm crooked like Nathan Wick starring as Cochese
With a big baseball bat you get robbed like DeNiro
A sandwich still ain't nothing but a hero
Just a small sample of the abstract
When the rhyme gets crazy hot and lyrics don't know how to act
Whether shooting joints or wax
I go all out and attack crabs and herbs that's crazy wack
We all can't be pimps, and we all can't rap
You got to get your dollars on cause it's on like that
Here's what I want you to do
Niggas with the green axe and burgundy Forerunner, inhuman like Blade
Runner
When I'm rhyming all summer just listen to the drummer
Transistor blister feedback freak the impeders
Funk flow we expose frequencies in sequence
Napalm gets dropped long range like fiber optics
Check the rhyme activity your skills is microscopic
Peace to my crew and my nigga El-P
Who's here to spark it causing all these crabs to flee
Check it and I inflict it quattro nine fifty lungs misty
Color me Maxmillian cause I'm that crazy robot
Teetering on the edge of outer space
Spitting buckshots till black holes surround me, you found me
As far as I'm concerned I've got your ashes in an urn
Big up, the temperamental hold none barred kid
What's your confunction? Tracks is type dusty
Drinking water out the well of life and I'mma piss it back rusty
Flesh and phonics, you're god damned right
I'm on 'em like they're on pacemakers hooked up to clappers
Clap on, welcome to my free-form jubilee, look at me
The witness to the shit you want to be
DBA lyrical P known as a simp and I'm a sycophant
Feeding on fats passed and dipped
In and out of my invisible state
Forerunner rep tyrannical
Wrecks like tecs bust mechanical
Rusty goner weasel painting beats on an easel
Shoot a head up, what bitch you're boxing shadows
Look out my way you pull your breath out to battle
Breaking your double helix, and now the shit is single
Not mono, I burn the needle out your vinyl
El-P the third gunner on the grassy knoll
Stroll, keep the seventh seal of heaven in my pocket
You're faggot like sprockets, motherfuck the Houston Rockets
I'm so sick of recycled metaphors
Bet but I'd fuck Laura Ingalls only when she's done with her chores
Got rappers tip toeing on a Highway to Heaven
Got manners like Bruce Banner when he's stressed
I'm sick of your corny beats and your crowd-involved hooks
Cause I'm a thinker
Evil anus letting off stinkers
BJ Eight steps to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Let rhyme styles get sparked
EP Eight stpes to perfection
The sum of each part forms an octagon
Where rhyme styles get sparked
The holy terror, last moves you never won't win
Playing taps on a violin
You can never comprehend the rhyme origin
I rate one like a Chinese, Jamaicin like a chin
Hot rocking corduroy, Ballys that's so fitted
Niggas came and assed out my tracks and left 'em shitted
Fuck the movement, lubricate the smooth shit
Just to letcha know, never do I use it
Strictly the blueprint for the ghetto music in my cipher
Shorty the sniper Jeep like Cherokee
When I take aim handling wall to wall emcees
Mr. Madman attract lyrics like magnets
They fuck up speaking cavernous when I'm stabbing it
Like the Juice, then go Bronco busting loose
That's my word, you couldn't shoot or try to compute the math
To kick any type sport like the vandal
I manhandle, emcees get murdered like tennessa
Or trapped in the bedroom with the Texas Chain Saw
Massacre one two three you're taking and tell 'em
Eastwick underground New York be the dwelling
I keep telling 'em the state of the mind be the mentals
If you murder up in the ghetto you murder in a temple
@dynomite939
makes me think of backpacks, train rides, skipping school, park benches, hash joints, markers, and bubble gum tasting kisses on endless house parties. thank you life for letting me grow up in the 90s
@anewbugmusic
🙌
@TargetedFreedom
Amen brother. God bless those heady days. Simpler times for sure. God bless brother.
@TheRedeyeriko
Like the movie KIDS
@jasonotto9126
God damn yes
@bushwacka5187
@riko redeye Without the Aids though...
@sittingyak
One of the greatest and most important songs in the history of rap
@Schwarzwind
Legends. This album is the bible of abstract underground. Bigg Jus and El-P went on to found the Definitive Jux label; Aesop Rock, Cannibal Ox, Cool Calm Pete, Del the Funky Homosapien, RJD2, to name a few. Has to be one of the best hip hop songs of all time when put in perspective.
@kamaugrant1305
Funcrusherplus... CLASSIC ALBUM B!😌
@clarktownsend8991
Company Flow is the best group ever in hiphop. I love RTJ but the are not Co Flow. Company Flow was sooooo far ahead of their time. Like no one was sounding like this back then.