Lyrics Go Ahead Den - Kardinal Offishall

Go Ahead Den

Alright
Yo, I’m bust
I’mma kill it, I’mma kill it
Here we go here we go
Yo
My flow is like a cock block for your whole label street team
My verse is like a hearse for your marketing scheme
My whole steez nigga please, put the mic down
Talking 'bout you represent, when you embarrassing your town
Walking around with the Gay Pride parade crown
Silicone raps underneath that pink gown
Posing as a killer when you living as a clown
Entertaining A&R's too deaf to hear the sound
You a has-been rapper, talking 'bout your style’s nice
Saying I’m independent now, looking for a new life
A weak DJ, living off of 80's fame
Guess starring in the Basement, living off of Tigga’s name
My name’s Kardinal, the pearl mic dark figure
Diploma type thoughts mixed up with street niggas
Living underground trying to earn the pop loot
Cause I won’t sell crack and got no aim to shoot
No patience for the weed, not quick enough to tief
Can’t pimp, don’t like fur coats or gold teeth
But I can rock the hell out of a fat ass beat
I might smile, up in your face and then jack your S-P
CHORUS 1
Yo, I’m ill to the 7th degree
T-dot represent, ya hearing me
Yo, I’m the nicest rapper dapper
With flows you don’t know, how a firestarter go
Yo, lick two, chart off in the sky
A make way when I’m stepping in the room
Yo eff rappers, I’m the hardest thing on two feet
Yo, listen to me, ya not zeen
Yo, my rhymes are FedEx covered in latex
Delivered to your Jubby, my charms tribes quest for hot sex
No bust for the next can protect
It’s when the I drop, the niggas saying 'what?'
And the skins are saying wet wet wet wet wet
I’m dripping in 'nuff girls, and missing what we trying to say
But talking about a revolution, end up talking about the day
When they can feel a rapper’s privates, I’m looking for your mind
But I’m seeing all your titties and a big round behind
Oh damn girl, you make think 'bout selling out
But oops, your weave just fell out
Ha ha
I’m straight from the place that first brought you Vince Carter
The story of Hurricane, and imported sugar cane
And snappy pop coming out three for a dollar
What, Peter loves who?
Yo don’t bother to hail it up
In the streets where we meet cause you might get beat
And find your head caught between timbos and concrete
And that’s real, a lot of ignorant peeps around the way
Ain’t trying to bend over to the madness of the day
But do what to do and yo who am I to say
I just want your records sales anyway
You see me
CHORUS 2
Someone kill to try and come up with the things that I say
I’m a bad mother-yo
I’m too fresh like Guess-V, in a special way (special way)
But everyday
«It's no way we can rock after them» [-- Black Thought
Yo yo
I’m kick another one, another one for the mic, know what I’m saying
Yo, I’m rolling through my hood system waking up the neighbours
Hell yeah, I know it’s wrong but I gotta pump my song
Heavier rotation than Sisqo and Thong Song
I’m the perfect combination of Einstein and Long Dong Silver
Up in one, kick real raps for fun
I’m the black anti-Babylon, rapping shogun
I try not bus' until I’m sure she cum
If I get a little hit, check I out the whole long
My tongue is like an instant check for 7−0's
Write about this, rhyme something about the hoes
Anyways I try to uplift, but not too serious yet
Because too much to say makes a negro’s a threat
So we talk about sex and promote the drug game
Even though we know it’s wrong, we just trying to make a name
Cha, I’m trying to get my Mom’s out the ghetto
And you would too if you could flow, stupid!
«It's no way we can rock after them» [-- Black Thought
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