Lyrics Epilogue - Diamond D

Epilogue

Ey, yo, check this out, this is the epilogue of the LP!
You know what I mean?
Word up, right?!
Round two for you and your motherfuckin' crew!
You know what time it is…
Yeah…
All you fake MCs you know the deal
I cut up your face and now you look like Seal, right?!
Now… it’s like this, it’s like that!
On the track is the mack, always dressed in black!
Keep a strap on my back in case, a nigga reacts
Like a child and get smacked from the front to the back like ping-pong!
You can’t fuck with me, son, you’re just a ding-dong!
Know what to do?
You need a crew?
You better bring some and everybody will laugh…
When you fall on your black ass just like King Kong!
Bust a flow over bare essentials
Smack up an A&R if he fucks up my credentials
On the production tips, so don’t lose grip
If your debt gets flipped at the expense of a trip!
Fuck it!
I got a crew dat sneaky
30 motherfuckers deep-drinkin' beers, smokin' leaky leaky!
We get freaky when I’m sippin' the Mo'
Dough to front on a stunt like I’m pimpin' a hoe!
But it ain’t so…, I just found the bitches that I pay right
I don’t ask for much, just some low top suede Nikes
And affection in my direction!
Over my erection goes protection!
(Now!)
You know the flav', son, it ain’t no question
I spark up Ls and dim the lights in my sessions!
You gotta see it as a fun thing!
Come on, son!
I’ll be havin' fuckin' orgys up in !
But there’s one thing that I don’t lack
If I pass you the L, take two and pass it right back!
Double D, I ran the tab up in Bennigan‘s
Snuck out, import some boom from the Dominicans!
The skin of men — the color of cinnamon!
Never in a pen, representin' for my niggas and the women in the ghetto,
so grab your stiletto!
Give a shout-out to Mixed Elements, Lonnie, Edo G, Show-b-i-z, A.G.
, Lord Finesse, Buckwild, the whole D.I.T.C
And we get the pc like my ex flame Reecy
Who got the yums out in D.C.
A tough fella whose career is stellar
Never yell or I kick dirt on your feet like Lou Piniella!
My shit is hella raw, I flip the metaphors!
I like watchin' reruns of «Baretta» or «Good Times», like Chic
My style is unique!
I get a treat when I speak to my cousin Annique up in Connecticut!
Peep the lame, the cool, atta kid!
Your head, it gets split if you flip
So you better get real cause I steal shows with standing ovations!
Gotta say peace to the Zulu Nation and Bambaataa for hip-hop's creation!
I took goldenseal when I was on probation!
Whether you’re Haitian, Boricua or Jamaican, ain’t no mistaken!
The shit that I
be makin' has awaken those who forsaken!
Yeah… but I keep it real in Atlanta, Macon, Richmond, Detroit, L.A.
, Chicago, and get credit wherever I go!
I laligaggin', take the drag of a indo, you know the flav', I put an L out the
window!
You can’t front on the D-I-A-M-O-N-D!
Come on, need I say another motherfuckin' word?
Sometimes it be that way
I got my niggas locked down like the CIA!
(Hey!)
Mira, vente, I’m hittin' like Clemente
For days, I’m settin' my ways like Kunta Kinte!
But I entrap the individuals strap
Kick facts back to back over original tracks!
On every joint I prove a point to make my shit sound clear!
In your ear, you can hear the words that provoke fear
To a fool whose skills are lackin', so get packin'
A mack and many asses I’m smackin' outside of Glacken‘s!
Attackin' foes and them loud mouth hoes
Who swore F’s and then stepped after my last show!
My cash flow is wicked, don’t mean that I trick on the next chick!
I bust a nut then I exit stage right
Never suffer from stage fright!
Girl, if your age is right
Maybe your page might lead to a sexual deed but don’t speed!
Your lip might bleed if you knock over my weed!
So heed my warning!
(Huh!) A new day is dawnin'
Never forgot the poverty that I was born in!
But I ain’t mad, I just relax on my pad
And reminisce about the F’s that I had!
Yeah…, let it roll, my man Mark-lo!
Yeah…, let it roll, K. Terroribul!
Yeah…, let it roll, John Dough!
Uh huh, like this for the 9750 IL!
Fuck around, I get your eye swell!