Lyrics We Da SH - Lee Scott, Illinformed

We Da SH

Chewin' the fat with me mouth open, scopin' the room
Like I’m shroomin' on crack, and eyeballin' you at the back
I haven’t heard you rap and I’m assuming you’re whack
I don’t even drop me brew to attack when I lose it and snap
(Then!) Stop to nonchalantly lob Scooby a snack
The confusion was pre-planned, I sit back calmy
Powder me weak hand, then pimp slap Barbie
And kill Ken, then I smash the pot and bill Ben
Then write about it with a Dodo feather quill pen
At the bottom of the Hill, jacking Jill’s friend
And I’m workin' on a new bible but until then
I’m plannin' to beat Adam into a permanent sleep
And to put Eve to work on the street
As her ruler and saviour
Force-feeding her the forbidden fruits of her labor
So do me a favour, don’t do me a favour
Lee’s the shit, a one man gang givin' the leader lip
There’s no I in team but there’s a me in it
The Bad Meaning Good Samaritan
Pickin' up your filthy habits and lookin' after ‘em
Your whole crew gets smacked with one swing
For sayin the wrong thing, like «this tin foil’s not bling»
Jesus, Mary and Joseph doin' piley-ons
I’m an innovator like The Gonz…
Stood on one foot gettin' head
Smokin' a blunt while I’m rewiring bombs
One for the road, double the dose
Develop telepathy to avoid the bugs in my phone
Emotionless, no lump in my throat
'Less I’m coming through customs, smuggling bundles of coke
You’re uncomfortably close, smart ass
Quit with your wisecracks, or become the butt of the joke
Your soul up for parole, suggests you hold your breath
Or I’ll steal it right from under you nose
White Lotus Sect, came here to pose a threat
Flown the nest with box cutter and explosive vest
Lightsaber glowing red, chew off cobra heads
Overstepped the mark, leave here with broken legs
Hip hop’s vigilante group, hangman’s noose
Slipknot, tamper-proof, motherfucker choke to death
Awoken at the Crack of Doom
Last known address, 412 Ocean Avenue
Creature of the black lagoon, write bars
With a pen and padded room, doing bank jobs in scramble suits
I am absolute, your significance amounts
To a phantom pregnancy in a barren womb
You’re wack, stay sat on the shelf, don’t flatter yourself
You haven’t made a single track that I’ve felt
Steadily getting it in while you’re losing count
Of imaginary notches on your chastity belt