| It’s not about rap ballads or who can flow the best
|
| what kind of dressing you gonna have with your life salad? |
| French
|
| yes.thank you very much. |
| On to the next
|
| (Slug)
|
| Yo you rappers eludin' but that’s nothin' new.
|
| I still stick to my duty, to kick something true.
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| Still if you wanna boo me we can do this in a circle of peers
|
| tell your bitch to kick a beat so I can work you to tears
|
| I’ve made a full of strangers throw hands in the air
|
| I know you sense danger I can see it in your stare
|
| Don’t provoke anger when the mic’s in my hand
|
| cause if I get that spark i’m quick to rip apart your plans
|
| Yo Ant, let’s keep this one accesible
|
| Take the fruits that wanna test these bros and make em' vegetable
|
| just to let em know that the course tastes pure
|
| Pissed off all the local rappers so it’s time to go on tour
|
| I’m sure, so I never break a sweat when a fate steps
|
| instead I break that snake’s neck and take his breath
|
| Half the time half of em don’t catch the rhymes
|
| they need they friends with to show em how we wax behinds
|
| Please fool, hella stupid i’m assumin'
|
| probably couldn’t even rock your own family reunion
|
| and i’m through with the politicket.
|
| Rhymesayers on a mission, watch the following thinkin', motherf**ka
|
| (Mr. Gene Poole)
|
| I stick two fingers through his nostrils and a thumb through his mouth and
|
| swing em' like a bowling ball make em' strike the f**k out.
|
| Take a hook and stab it through his back and curve it around his spine and
|
| throw em out by the lili pads and wait for a hit on my line
|
| Cause this rap shit makes me wanna catch niggas like catfish,
|
| chop em up into steaks and sop em up off the plate with biscuits
|
| and rice. |
| I put the hand of the one that likes to hold mics in a vice,
|
| make sure he never writes in his life.
|
| When its time for me to display (stay the f**k out the way),
|
| and when its time for you to dj you gon' play what I say.
|
| The word for the day is Fette cash lessons.
|
| Get ready to mash when I give the word don’t ask questions
|
| Pack yo shit, dont smack yo bitch, leave peacebly
|
| cause these’ll be vital elements of livin' feasibly.
|
| ? |
| the urban? |
| mocha latte, Saint Paul nigga rockin the uptown partay
|
| like coca angel vatte, I provide that mental rush and that physical feelin like
|
| yo whole worlds being dusted. |
| Be hushed when you see me in deep thought,
|
| hand clutched interrupt and you just might be caught then crushed
|
| (Slug)
|
| Yo yo I quit frontin' really really
|
| I know wrong and right, wrote my songs, shed light to promote a longer life.
|
| When I reflect that night I seek light in the confusion, I stick to the music
|
| and skip the baggage of delusion.
|
| Managed to come through and i’m in the minimalism yo the damage is due it’s
|
| time to climb to catch a vision. |
| Yo i’ve had it with you and the terms which I
|
| work
|
| cause it matta to you, the flight’s cursed, I might burst
|
| challengin who? |
| Balance the mood, yo Stress let’s gather the crew,
|
| commence to wreck shit then exit. |
| I’d rather that you,
|
| throw your hands in the air and if that’s too demanding you can stand there and
|
| stare. |