| We slide out, it’s like Crunch, Captain
|
| Not the cereal but suited like generals (Let's go)
|
| Gripping the mic and moving any rooms
|
| See Mighty Jo swing, smack from the bush
|
| Grimy flow kings rap out the wood
|
| Work when a boy twerk lines this good (Uh huh)
|
| Who say we hiding in the hood, playing Holly games?
|
| We drop hits here at the party, mayne
|
| Listen, woman or child, the hood’s in the house
|
| Now start looking around for me, Brooklyn-bound (Look)
|
| Queens all-city, the kid putting it down (Look)
|
| Probably in another town, unhooking her blouse
|
| She waving in the air, saying, «Looky, meow»
|
| Posse cut bodied her. |
| You better watch it, son
|
| Yo, I ain’t trying to battle no more. |
| That shit is getting boring
|
| The comp sucks. |
| My new hot stuff should get to touring (Hit the road)
|
| Words are like weapons soaring, leaving sets unplugged
|
| Disrespecting, it gets to you like Lauren
|
| Shit’s hard. |
| Smoke grass to let it off
|
| Me and Vast need cash, so we smash like ghetto raw
|
| Straight beating the fuck out this verbal session, stressing this bitch
|
| ‘Til she’s screaming like. |
| With herbal essence, I
|
| Spit a TEC at the mainstream, aiming at
|
| Fake niggas who gang clean, ain’t seen jack
|
| Hip hop is much bigger than rap. |
| You going for mines?
|
| Get off the crack. |
| Bet on your ride?
|
| I break your prize, leave you walking back
|
| For the green, I’m a scene from the Hulk attack
|
| I’m a vet. |
| You pose no threat. |
| You pussy
|
| On the set like commercials with talking cats
|
| My jersey been in the rafters. |
| Peep this towel-mouth
|
| Brooklyn monster. |
| Knuckle up, speedbag your tonsils
|
| Poison Pen’s name’s hitting in the street
|
| All I do is threaten dudes to the rhythm of the beat
|
| Branch Davidians trail me. |
| Got a cult following
|
| Tungsten for tonsils, low blows spit halogen
|
| Thought your block was wild? |
| Watch out. |
| It’s really off
|
| Politicians pop off, turn the city hall to a city morgue (We want it all)
|
| If there’s a brawl, really, dog, it’s prolly us
|
| Tour bus boys ain’t stalled working on a posse cut
|
| Ayyo, lips on your face don’t work. |
| Just like I’m
|
| On the desert, baby. |
| The same as gamma-ray-strong birth
|
| Bitch!
|
| «Rap representing» — Sample from
|
| Y’all know the name:
|
| Aesop fucking Rock. |
| Ain’t a damn thing changed
|
| Clubbed up in a property in helicopter hell
|
| When all he wanted was to drink copper, crawl out of well
|
| Jumping Jiminy in a gimme-gimme industry
|
| New York bleed bricks, piss huts, and shit liberty
|
| Briefing lizards, he sleeps the winters away
|
| Weight flips snarky out in demos. |
| Let him keep the scissors
|
| And all that good-good. |
| Smoked out and mobile
|
| When his tummy growls in vowels, shit almost looks remotely simple (Oh)
|
| Slumped on every portly mobile. |
| Porky ogre ace ignored
|
| A forty focal. |
| Folk adored a forgey quirksy motor
|
| Fuck what I’m gon' be. |
| This luck of the ugly
|
| And I’m half-man, wormy, flunked, fucked. |
| What? |
| Dirty
|
| From the dump, suck dump truck. |
| Let the peril fester
|
| Right? |
| Curb your little ninjas and we’ll all break bread together
|
| I know niggas in the street who delete oxygen
|
| If you ain’t really ‘bout it, don’t box him in (Don't do that)
|
| There’s no water but you gonna go swimming
|
| We don’t like y’all. |
| We like women (I like girls)
|
| You lie sweet but the truth’s like lemon
|
| If you touch her right, she’ll start grinning (She'll start grinning)
|
| I got something if you want to touch hands
|
| Sucker emcees better change they plans
|
| Pass the baton. |
| I’ll end the dash (End the dash)
|
| That ain’t all the herb. |
| It’s only the stash
|
| And this ain’t a posse cut. |
| It’s more of a slash
|
| Part of the hurricane—only the splash
|
| Styles upon styles upon styles is what I have
|
| You trying to grab the Aire? |
| You don’t know the half
|
| Hah. |
| You better off up north
|
| And when you thinking we got you, the lights go off |