Intro:
Yo what's up?
This is hip hop manifesting as the Blastmaster KRS-One.
Bringing you 60 minutes of funk with my man Funkmaster Flex
so I say...
Hook:
Me never never never cross over
Me never never never never go commercial la la (x2)
Verse 1:
You ain't major you minor
Get behind a real rhymer
Graff writer, chart climber, path finder, rewinder
A minute
That ass let me get WAY up in it
Now you did it
You steppin' to me like you some type of lyrical chef
But like Coolio said G you better make a leeeft
Now you in the party actin' hard
You need to be home asleep so you can wake up early and get a job
Stop frontin' you ain't sayin' nothin'
Say hello to the Boogie Down Production
MC's today are too pretty what a pity
I represent the city where it's gritty
And GRIMY I'm ferrous you're curious
Just try me if you're serious
Who's your trainer I'll smash you in the face with a bottle
Hit the toggle switch back to a role model
You Benedict Arnold
I'll calm you
You ain't wild I heard this kid in Brooklyn with the same style
Timing for timing your rhymin'
And with that biddy bye bye follow me massive you don't wanna go there
I got mad skills and style I will get wild
Feel my file
Conceptually ahead by miles
Who's to blame when your lyrics are lame?
No octane just can't play the game quite the same
I'm in the passing lane
Shoooom I go by you like a Japanese bullet train
I heard you trying to damage my name
But can...you...stand..the...rain?
The one's I don't kill go insane
Fuck the flamboyant MC I come plain (complain)
What you tryin' for?
What you lyin' for?
You gotta think is hip hop worth dyin' for?
So lets settle the score with rhythmic metaphor
Strickly the motherfuckin' God core
So I say
Hook
Verse 2:
So I leap through
And dominate the microphone I speak through
I'm writtin' for the people[Tek]
To all my peeps locked down, comin back 2 life
I know it's been a mega zone, since I sen't you this kite
But I had to K.I.M., you know the city don't sleep
Put 50 cents in your commisary, reach you next week
The streets still in a shangle, since we last broke bread
And Baby Ra got left, O.T. two in the head
Seen Black cop the ack, you know his numbers ain't match
He still runnin tack jobs from the days of way back
And look at Jose, is wild now, gave birth to my first child
And they move John back to the Isle
Still tryin to hold my dough to see mom straight
Gotta scribe from Jahard said he maxed a rapper's weight
For a rep to 5-10, before we lock in
Askin how's my rappin, wanna know if I'm still boxin
In the center that's the sum, now he been gone for 12 summers
Round the same time a vapor leather b bombers
[scratched up samples of Mobb Deep's "Trife Life"]
[Tek]
For the love of money, Red is facin a 8-20
Could of had a 1-3 but the streets were hot and days were sunny
Some niggas stayin runnin for the love of money
Went up to Antarc, slick mix sergeant country
[Steele]
A god a scribe from the god foundation
Same thing nuthin changed, he's maintainin
Just takin everyday, he stay inside and stride
Build a whip, a tard, a nepher, trying to stay alive
Tell the god Ja Rule, I'm comin to see him in the fu'
Next V.I., soon as I finish takin care of B.I.
I see why that nigga Kay be ready to flip
But let him know Rhino's home, fuckin wit the clique, shit
Imagine if Blueman was there, oh my god
I know that's somethin for the ward and the fair
Oh yeah, if you bump into my nigga Rubble
Tell him me and his brother Sigh got the bundle when he come thru
[more scratched up samples of "Trife Life, and talking]
[Tek]
Told ya moms, tell me stop shittin on me, take the block with my phone
Don't forget about a dog when he away from