A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
Me and Frosted went to get a drink.
But she ordered somethin’ bugged, and I ain’t know what to think.
She ordered potassium, calcium,
Carbohydrate, scotch with sodium.
She took me to her crib, threw me on the couch…
I woke up the next morning with a spoon in my mouth.
So lovers of life, don’t keep your hopes up high.
Why? Cause it’s just a matter of time before it’s your turn to die.
But until then, when you stop breathin’,
It’s time to stand up and fight for what you believe in!
I remember when I fell from my first bike:
There were no ‘Are you okays?’ and rarely ‘Are you alrights?’
Just dirt in my pockets, handful of gravel…
That’s when I realized that getting up is only half the battle.
Slim Shady: Hotter then a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz, with the windows up
When the temp goes up to the mid 80’s.
Fake MC’s – they always act hard
But won’t walk the streets without their bodyguards.
I’m not a sucka, so I don’t need a bodyguard.
The principles of true hip-hop have been forsaken,
It’s all contractual and about money makin’.
Back in the days when I was a teenager,
Before I had status, and before I had a pager,
You could find The Abstract, listening to hip-hop,
My pops used to say it reminded him of be-bop.
I said, ‘Well daddy don’t you know that things go in cycles.
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin’ like Michael.
It’s all expected, things are for the lookin’,
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin’.
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid.
L is the rebel type, I’m rough as a metal pipe,
Fuck a Benz, cause I can pull skins on a pedal bike.
Everybody’s got opinions on the way you’re livin’,
But see, they can’t fill your shoes.
Niggas is decaf, I stick ‘em for the C.R.E.A.M.
Beef is best served like steak:
Well done, get a gun in ya face.
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
The line between playing to win and sin is thin,
But I walk it with grace and I talk it with taste.
I am that raw, simply put, and I rest my case.
Deja vu, tell you what I’m gonna do,
When they reminisce over you, my God.
Stop raising your voice at me,
Stop messing around with my sanity,
Got me in a bubble, I can barely breathe…
Spam ain’t the move it’s imitation ham.
Ham is pork, and the pork is foul.
Kinda like a pig and that ain’t my style.
God works in different ways and it shows…
And everybody knows, love comes and goes.
I got a funny feeling like something was real wrong…
Looked at her shoes and her feets was real long!
Then it hit me, Oh please God no,
Don’t let this ho turn out to be a John Doe…
He pulled a fast one on me, yo!
This is jazz, this is funk, this is soul, this is gospel
This is sanctified sick, this is player Pentecostal.
This is church front pew, Amen, pulpit,
What my people need and the opposite of bullshit.
There oughta be laws against you yappin’ your jaws.
When you fall for a girl named Hope
How you gonna have any when she decides to go?
I swear these niggas from the future…
Where they got camouflage chains and invisible gats
Cause I don’t see none of the shit I hear in their raps.
We brag on havin’ bread, but none of us are bakers.
We all talk havin’ greens, but none of us on acres.
If none of us on acres, and none of us grow wheat,
Then who will feed our people when our people need to eat?
So it seems our people starve from lack of understandin’
Cause all we seem to give them is some ballin’ and some dancin’,
And some talkin’ about our car and imaginary mansions.
We should be indicted for bullshit we inciting,
Havin’ children deaf and pretendin’ it’s exciting.
We are advertisements for agony and pain.
We exploit the youth. We tell them to join a gang.
We tell them dope stories, introduced them to the game.
I own the night…the heat’s my receipt.
Using numerology to count the people I sent to heaven,
Produces more digits than 22 divided by 7.
Niggas running around fantasizing like they’re Peter Pan…
Your life’s a scam and I’mma fuck it up like Neverland.
Your mom’s in our business…she’s in our business…
Can’t you see, girl, that your mom’s trying to end this?
I gave birth to most of them MC’s…
So when it comes around to the month of May,
Send me your royalty check for Mother’s Day.
What’s the remedy? Suckaz better get their own identity,
And to the enemy, you better roll like there’s ten of me.
I make chicks consider themselves widows whose husbands ain’t even died yet.
Laugh now, cry later: this is the karma.
Hip-hop never died, it’s just sick of the drama.
Lookin’ out at the world through my window pane,
Every day has many colors ‘cause the glass is stained.
Everything has changed but remains the same,
So once again the mirror raised.
And I see myself as clear as day,
And I am goin’ to the limits of my ultimate destiny,
Feeling as though somebody somewhere is testin’ me.
He who sees the end from the beginning of time
Looking forward through all the ages:
Is, was, and always shall be.
Let me spell my name out for you, it’s Ricky:
R: Ravishing, I: Impress,
C: Courageous or Careless,
K: for the Kangols which I’ve got,
That I wear everyday and Y: Why not?
This is doomsday for MCs with hollow skills,
Who talk about clothing articles and dollar bills,
And fake ass rides that they don’t even drive.
Hip-hop is war and only strong MCs will survive.
You could either ignore this advice, or take it from me:
Be too nice, and people take you for a dummy.
I’m a menace to society,
But girls in biker shorts are so fly to me.
After the date, I’mma want to do the wild thing…
You’re talkin’ lobster? I’m thinkin’ Burger King.
Put this in your CD-ROM:
www dot Canibus dot com.
You can find me on the Internet, talkin’ to chicks
That was sweatin’ me off the ‘Music Makes Me High’ remix.
I be talkin’ mad trash, tryin to get ’em to laugh.
See, if I click and drag long enough I’ll get the ass…
Money…really wasn’t part of the rap.
Paid…was havin’ people start to clap.
I wake you up and as I stare in your face, you seem stunned.
Remember me? The one you got your idea from?
Y’all niggas ain’t ILL…you’re ILLogical.
When I was born, my mama’s pussy had the new car smell.
I’m not sayin I’m a pothead, cause I’m not.
I’m just sayin that I smoke a lot.
And how ‘bout the non-blunt rollin’ females
That always fucks it up ’cause they don’t wanna break their Lee nails?
Hits from the bong
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I’m kickin’ it wit’ Chong.
Infrareds on little people standing with some big heads,
I was Captain Kirk, walkin’ with a black t-shirt.
LAPD, the nurse asked did my knee hurt?
I was in pain, little Martians tryin’ ta take my brain,
Hospitals came, detectives wrote down my name.
I was to blame, my life never been the same.
A true story; I tell ya, it’ll never bore me.
My classmate died, my other friend named Cory
Drinkin’ 40s, he jumped out the project window,
Stabbed himself with a yellow number 2 pencil.
Destiny made a mistake and gave my fate to someone else.
Friends: how many have ‘em?
How long before they split like atoms?
Don’t ask me, but what I do stand behind
Is someone havin’ your back seems hard to find.
Shorty, let me tell you about my only vice:
It has to do with lots of lovin’, and it ain’t nuttin’ nice.
I’m on some tax-free shit by any means,
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit C.R.E.A.M.
I’m like an eclipse on a Friday the 13th,
With black cats and Haley’s Comet,
Blazin’ blunts in my driveway…
I don’t respect killers, I respect O.G. knowledge,
Codes of the streets got new rules, but no guidance.
Lessons, detrimental to a young disciple;
Folks, take care of your brothers, niggas do as I do.
Keep your enemies close, where they can see you.
It’s not your enemy who get you, it’s always your own people.
I am the manifestation of study,
NOT the manifestation of money.
Therefore, I advance through thought,
NOT what’s manufactured and bought.
…Cops just surrounding me with pistols everywhere.
They put me in the backseat of their car handcuffed,
Pushed out them chests like they’re big rough and tough.
A cop come and said ‘You’ll never sell your guns now.’
I said ‘It doesn’t matter, you’ll sell them anyhow.
You take the guns from me, you sell them for a fee;
Anyway you put it, they’ll get in the city!’
We can’t complain for this borrowed time;
So don’t misuse yours, cause you can’t borrow mine.
We live in an era where it ain’t about dope rhymes.
When beef is online, and how big is your co-sign…
Every night I pray to God: ‘Please, no more wack MC’s.’
You pout like a trout in a drought…can’t get out.
You want to scream, but fish can’t shout.
Yo, where the teachers went, with all that pro-black shit?
Where all the conscious niggas, who used to chat like this?
See, I remember yesterday when y’all was Gods and Earths,
Egyptians and metaphysicists on the verge of giving birth
To Understanding, and planting seeds that grow.
Now everybody’s on that bullshit about killing and so.
Shakespeare’s gone, don’t even think about it.
She’s not impressed by your fancy car.
She got a body so she’s snotty and she don’t care who you are.
So don’t get mad and dis her reputation
Callin’ her a floozy, any conversation.
Mad grammar, backstabber, girls they wanna be her.
But like Stevie Wonder, none of y’all can see her!
Tell ya mama to stop flirtin’ boy, I’m not a good step-pop.
I interrupt your little session…and wreck shop.
Look here: “Mo’ money, mo’ problems,” my ass.
You’s a naive cat if you still believe that.
I was always taught my do’s and don’ts:
For do’s I did, and for don’ts, I said I won’t.
A prejudiced man is of a devil mentality.
These are words of a wise man, wisdom;
Take a taste and erase the racism.
I seen her in the subway, on my way to Brooklyn.
“Hello, good lookin, is this seat tooken?”
On the A Train, pickin at her brain,
I couldn’t get her number, I couldn’t get her name.
I said, “I still like your style and fashion,
But I hate your hot sadiddy attitude wit a passion.
Is it because brothers like to hawk a lot?
Is it because your sign don’t talk a lot?”
She turned away, no play, I said, “OK,
You don’t really look good, I hope you have a bad day.”
For what it’s worth, I’ve been a hip-hopper from birth.
Try to disrespect, and get your ass played up like a Smurf.
Don’t you like when the winter’s gone,
And all of a sudden it starts gettin’ warm?
The trees and the grass start lookin’ fresh,
And the sun and sky be lookin’ their best…
Look: if I shoot you, I’m brainless,
But if you shoot me, then you’re famous.
What’s a nigga to do?
Keep bustin about where you rest, and what you own, and what you drive.
So the day some niggaz come for you, I’m really not surprised.
Ain’t nothin’ like hip-hop music;
You like it cause you choose it.
Most DJ’s won’t refuse it,
A lotta sucka MC’s misuse it.
The poor get worked, the rich get richer,
The world gets worse, do you get the picture?
The poor gets dead, the rich get depressed,
The ugly get mad, the pretty get stressed.
The ugly get violent, the pretty get gone,
The old get stiff, the young get stepped on.
Whoever told you that “it was all good” lied,
So throw your fists up if you not satisfied.
I won’t say I’m the baddest, or portray that role,
But I’m in the top 2, and my father’s gettin’ old.
Lemonade was a popular drink and it still is;
I get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis.
Truth had me up against the ropes
And semi-conscious without no boxing skills.
There’s so many wack rappers out here, I don’t know where to aim at.
There ain’t no time to be wasted, the world is going under…
Nowadays, can’t tell Fall from Spring, and Winter from Summer.
Brothers ain’t half-steppin…they’re walking backwards.
This country of ours was built on violence;
If your ass got in the way, you was killed in silence.
And these been the ways since back in the days:
Just ask the Indians or the African slaves.
Some girls barely speak, but always askin’ for a dollar.
Y’all really think Ms. Shakur, or Ms. Wallace,
Or Ms. Mizell from out in Hollis
Wouldn’t exchange the love and fame
Attached to their loved ones’ names
Just to have ‘em still alive in their arms?
I admit skinz ain’t a reason to lose friends,
But then again I didn’t know. Sorry.
Lyrics are weak, like clock radio speakers.
You can’t bite my style cause my style ain’t a style that is a style so I can go buckwild.”
Nigga hit me on the Sidekick sayin’ he gon’ shoot me:
Soundin’ like a real groupie.
He a bitch with a heater like Lara Croft,
He gonna get his ass wet like Noah’s Ark.
Got the choppa won’t hesitate to squeeze,
Get his ass cut like a Whopper with Cheese.
…And Sunday’s the one day I rest, give thanks, and bless.
Educated: no. Stupid: yes.
And when I say “stupid,” I mean stupid fresh.
Now we feel the good vibrations…
So many females, so much inspiration.
I cannot stand no wack MC.
So step back if you please,
And don’t test me, you’re history.
They say the good die young, so the bad die old.
Guess we somewhere in the middle, so just pray for my soul.
New York, New York, big city of dreams,
Where there’s nothing but foreign cars, bitches, and triple beams.
How can polar bears swing on vines with the gorillas?
I like ‘em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian.
We speak the love language, they speak from pain and anguish.
Some don’t love theyselves, so they perception is tainted.
Say somethin’ positive? Well positive ain’t where I live.
I live right around the corner from West Hell,
Two blocks from South Shit, and once in a jail cell.
Ain’t no tellin’ what I’d do for a dollar…
I’m not your father, but guess what I’mma do to ya mama.