Lyrics Mi Fresh - Poor Righteous Teachers

Mi Fresh

Shit!
Goddamn, my man!
Can I take a stand?
If not for myself, for the whole damn land
Culture Freedom, Father Shaheed
(Mi Wise Intelligent!) PRT!—
Ripping the cut to make the people shake (what!)
And after I’m through, the world will call me a nut
No one knows, but I’m sure like pantyhoes
Dready as fuck with ((the Ya-man close!))
Nice in your area, because you said we scare ya
Plus we’re giving knowledge that will ((also prepare ya!))
Coming through with, uh, somethin' brand new
Fresher than fresh, yes, yes, my whole crew
Mes-merizing, I, the teacher—
Doctor ripping up the vocal tracks, wise
PRT posse got the rough, rudeboy (style!)
And every time a tomboy get big—
Pick a time to test me hells (no)—way!
Pay 'nuff respect to the ball and say
«My gosh, PRT is so fresh (fresh)!»
Sup, so why is it fresh?
Some they wonder why (heheh) I’m fresh
Yes—I'm the one to make a million when black folk find—
Knowledge of themselves in one hip-hop ((rhyme))
Time to get the bulletproof vest
('Cause that’s how these devils work!)
Quit playin', sayin' «Assassinator hate to see the real black man»
Could come to lead his people to the promise land
But can you understand where I come from?
(Those raggly ass projects in Trenton!)
But payin' talent, never will I reduce to this type thing
Gotta get some line as the black man’s king
I can’t be a king without a kingdom
Uhh!
Mi fresh!
(Fresh…Fresh…)
(Suckas!)
(Funky fresh!)
Aw yeah!
Here we go!
Kickin' rhythms, collect the doe
Rollin' at the block, and get me to the next show
It’s the Wise and I’ve come to get live-ly (heheh) (alright!)
Mr. Culture Freedom *Yo!
That’s me!*
What’s up with the tribe called P.R.T.
Run and tell ya friend, «*Come get some-of-these!*»
Culture’s got fresh style, *Fresh st-style and degrees!*"
((Who are you to question our righteous-ness?))
Rumble, rumble, ((we crash upset)), just to see how ((funky you-can-get!))
Stimulating Wise
The the teacher that’s been making people mad about rhymes
Diss me if you will, but best believe I get mine
That’s a deal for each of-the-times that I come through
So, watch it will ya?
Follow me, Culture Free, Father Sha, PRT
If not protect ya block, but not get rocked, so
We’re not conceded, beat it, man I don’t need it
Feed it to ya dog, heat it, see if she will eat it
Why… oh…I say…
Take it from me, can’t you see rhyme pays?
Lord, mi fresh!
(Fresh…Fresh…)
(Suckas!)
(Funky fresh!)
Someone, somewhere, please
I think you better come quick on-these-g's
And if they don’t wake up they’ll rest-in-peace
On-that-corner, and it’s tombstone says—"40"—ounce, that is
Sho’nuff gonna warn the wicked of his wicked ways
Prescriber of Islam, so I obey
So niggas may figure I’m out to-get-'em
But brother-to-brother it ain’t like that
It’s like this (yo!) so hear me now
Don’t say, check the timin', rhymin, more than a hobby
People in the area hear you got bodied
Dissing my new shit, peep the style I do
Pussy try to test it, I buck-off on his whole crew
Yes I confess, I’m pretty dangerous (dangerous!)
Ya gotta, and through time I remain this
You can pop this in-your-jeep, pump the volume to-it's-peak
PRT posse’s big beats need volume
Just crank it in your benz and run, tell all your friends
That wonderful posse’s come back to rock all ((ya'll!))
Whaddaya want?
(lyrics!) well I’m loaded
Don’t ride my crotch, cause at times I gotta hold it
Look at all the dope em-cees
Teachers, gangstas, some wannabes
Don’t gotta say no names, because this ain’t soft
Uhh!
Mi fresh!
(Fresh…Fresh…)
(Suckas!)
(Funky fresh!)