Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Exact , by - BenefitRelease date: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Exact , by - BenefitExact |
| Making MCs freeze and drop to their knees |
| Like getting caught smuggling ki’s to Caribbean seas |
| At ease, I puff trees till I look Chinese |
| And immigration says «Can we see your green card please?» |
| My rhymes never ricochet needless to say |
| I’m just like the word kill only minus the K |
| If you hear my track play close your eyes and pray |
| I’m just like the word basic only minus B-A |
| Top of the food chain rub your brain with coarse grain |
| Sandpaper dipped in glue and glass so there’s more pain |
| I haven’t reached my whole goal till I’ve got your whole soul |
| Over beats so hot that they stop drop and roll |
| Extravagant far from arrogant it’s just apparent |
| That I’m better than any MC and I’m declaring it |
| I’m giving stitches to phony bitches acting vicious |
| Chefs around the world claim my flavor’s delicious |
| When it’s talent they lack, then it’s beats they rob |
| I shine so bright the sun had to quit his day job |
| It takes dedication to rip the ill iteration |
| Quite amazing blazing hotter than Cajun incineration |
| Crime MCs pretending to be deadly and steady with the gun |
| In reality they’re ready to run |
| Before you learn to run, you have to learn to walk |
| I’ll help the cops out and write my rhymes around you in chalk |
| I got the deaf people hearing this, blind people seeing this |
| Paralyzed from the neck down still feeling this |
| Deaf people hearing this, blind people seeing this |
| Paralyzed from the neck down still feeling this |
| I don’t give a fuck like I’m celibate |
| The truth, I’m telling it, battle MCs for the hell of it |
| Why you get bent just selling it, that’s irrelevant |
| It’s evident Benefit’s beyond intelligent |
| Go ahead and bite, my style isn’t edible |
| My rhyme’s a jawbreaker, type incredible |
| Pitiful, that you’re not taking me literal |
| Left in the hospital, shaking a little |
| I’m breaking a little; |
| you break in the middle |
| Of your body cuz you’re weaker than the strings of a fiddle |
| My style’s deeper than the themes of a riddle |
| Time to belittle, no chance for acquittal |
| The judge and the jury sentence you in a hurry |
| To get beat down in a microphone flurry |
| I don’t worry, but my eyes are getting blurry |
| Cuz I see so many phony fakes of fury |
| Touch this, and you can catch one fist |
| Right through the center of your chest, won’t miss |
| You’re hopeless, even with the chrome vest |
| I still penetrate to your heart, don’t test |
| I’m the sickest MC, the quickest to be fighting dirty |
| You’re biting early, quit acting girly |
| I grab my trusty pen out of my right pocket |
| And stab you in your brain right through your eye socket |
| When I battle you with wordplay you can’t walk away |
| Cuz I’ll break both of you legs and crack all your vertebrae |
| With only one look you took and your whole crew shook |
| I don’t need a phone book because I’m always off the hook |
| Grab your head twist and crunch like twisting a Dutch |
| Then battle crippled kids and beat them down with a crutch |
| I calmly casually humiliate your family |
| Punch your mom in the face for raising a whack MC |
| Bend your sister over yelling «Who's your daddy?» |
| When she replies me I simply put it in slowly |
| You’ll never be the thug you wanna be even with the bid |
| Even if you did cross me I’d get even with you, kid |
| Occasionally I really start to hate the phony |
| So I reflect reality through my testimony, do you know me? |
| I spit a flash flood to splash blood and, rash, dug |
| A grave in fresh mud for the last thug |
| Who came incorrect and didn’t respect the intellect |
| Recollect he who drove in the fast lane wrecked |
| The industry slept while true fans paid attention |
| Tales of battling a legend whenever Benefit’s mentioned |
| I’m sicker than the average man when tearing into competition |
| Whose ears are blistering from listening |
| For fame I’ll rip the skeleton out your flesh frame |
| And rearrange your bones to spell my name |
| Still feelin this |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Belief ft. Kinetics, Dylan Owen, Benefit | 2017 |
| Proceed With Caution | 2001 |
| Been Sick | 2015 |
| If I Owned a Midget (Midget Named Gordo) | 2001 |
| Supreme | 2001 |
| Fairwell | 2001 |
| Oscar's Present (Interlude) | 2001 |
| Warp to World 6-9 | 2001 |
| Blind Following | 2001 |
| Call of Revolt | 2001 |
| Friends | 2001 |
| My Story | 2001 |
| A Page in Hip Hop's Diary | 2001 |
| Garbage Pail Kids | 2001 |
| The United Stage of America | 2001 |
| My Enemy | 2001 |
| Something Wicked This Way Comes | 2001 |
| Therapy and Peace | 2019 |