Hip-hop started on the block;
I fell asleep at the wheel, the shit crashed into Pop.
Tag Archives: east coast
It’s like I’m married to the silencer,
Until I file for divorce and release my ex-calibers.
Do art with your arteries, place that for my adversaries,
Put your snap back cap back, cap your capillaries.
Could hate a person, but in fact it’s not worth it.
Never know how long you’ve got on this earth, kid.
Question religion, question it all,
Question existence until them questions are solved.
There’s four sides to every story…
If these walls could talk, they’d probably still ignore me.
Brooklyn: the home of the black and the beautiful.
For a rough rap sound, ain’t a place more suitable.
If you ain’t using all the talents God provided you with
For the betterment of Man, understand,
You ain’t nothing but a waste.
Whatcha gonna do to this?
You may be older than me, but you’re new to this.
Cause I been out there, queen of MC’s,
When your man was walkin’ round in mocknecks and Lee’s.
While you were over here perpetratin’ a fraud,
I was overseas on the charts with Boy George.
You’re the beginner, Shante’s the winner,
Havin’ other competition for dinner.
Sit you on the table with a plate and cup,
Say grace…and then eat your ass up.
Sorry, Mrs. Drizzy, for so much art talk;
Silly me rappin’ ‘bout shit that I really bought.
While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot,
And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got.
I never boned a honey that I didn’t like,
I never saw a mile that I couldn’t hike.
I never had a spliff to make me choke,
I never had a pocket that was broke.
Unpredictable, liable to flip my lid…
My moms dropped me on my head when I was a kid.
Back then I lost all my marbles, today I lost my job,
So in essence, it’s Armageddon, somebody’s bound to get robbed!
Real niggaz represent and don’t die,
Never dead, like I said, all we fuckin’ do is multiply.
It seems to me like all these people claim to be the victim,
Acting like the whole entire world is out to get them.
Stand up on your own,
And prove that you are grown,
Because the life that you save may be your own.
Why is the world round?
Why do the suckas bite?
Why do the freaks come out at night?
Why they paint Jesus white?
I sit and wonder why we breakin hip-hop laws,
Doing videos in houses that we know ain’t yours.
On the real, fuck your opinion.
I made it this far, and you broke.
I be tossin’, enforcin’, my style is awesome.
I’m causin’ more Family Feuds than Richard Dawson.
And the survey said: “You’re dead.”
Fatal Flying Guillotine chops off your fuckin’ head!
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself, but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind.
First I snatched the streets, then I snatched the charts.
First I had they ear, now I have their heart.
Rappers came and went…I’ve been here from the start.
I seen them put it together, watched them take it apart.
Just ‘cause you got money don’t mean you made it.
Just ’cause you make it, don’t give you the right to be on that fake shit.
Bullets ain’t racial, kid…they only hate you.
I clock G’s while you clock Z’s.
And I don’t smoke crack…I smoke MC’s.
I came in the door, I said it before
I never let the mic magnetize me no more.
But it’s biting me, fighting me, inviting me to rhyme,
I can’t hold it back…I’m looking for the line.
Taking off my coat, clearing my throat,
My rhyme will be kicking until I hit my last note.
My mind’s my 9, my pen’s my Mac-10.
My target? All you wack niggaz who started rappin’.
Two wrongs don’t make it right, but it damn sure makes us even.
My old soul remains forever young…
I’ve done it all, and still I’m doing shit that I ain’t ever done.
See, it depends on your definition of winning;
I ain’t started from the bottom, I started from the beginning.
Who gives a fuck about a goddamn Grammy?
The motto goes: Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll.
I prefer: Love, Hugs and Hip-Hop Soul.
I got a lot of things to do, a lot of money to make;
I got no time for you and all the moves you fake.
Life is full of stress and it wrecks my brain,
So I puff the buddha bless and destroy the pain.
Of course I’m funky like fat people having intercourse.
Basically, the funk is stuck in your teeth…so get the dental floss.
I have a dream:
One day we will get to the promised land.
Then the president will be me,
The government will be Shabaam, Mos and Kweli…that’s it!
All wackness is now banned.
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.
Play the game for my people, stay in charge of your dreams.
Keep your vision focused, get wise, and largen your C.R.E.A.M.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
You better recognize, adjust your bifocals;
Your style is local…I sit on the beach in Acapulco.
I put words together like Peter Jennings,
And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Fleming.
Question: Why is that MC’s be wack
And major labels wanna sign that crap?
A-yo…funk that!
Fuck movin’ mountains, I move planets and leave you Earthless.
Terror Squad: the worst that hurt shit, split your universes.
I can’t relate to livin’ less than great.
Funny how things change when you got a liquor in ya:
You’re quicker with the tongue, givin’ me rhythm now.
Block the music and the people out to admire the love,
The nerve of us…impervious to the entire club.
And like marijuana shotguns, let’s blow this joint,
It’s pointless to stay here, so let me anoint.
Crazy frustration, about my lovin situation;
When patience was a virtue…but I wasn’t used to waitin.
Take a sip from the cup of death…
And when you’re shaking my right hand, I’ll stab you with the left.
If you don’t got endz, you won’t be gettin’ no skinz,
And if you don’t got money, you won’t scoop a honey.
If you don’t got cash, you won’t be gettin’ no ass,
And if you don’t got loot, you won’t be knockin’ no boots.
Niggas out here buyin’ hoes bags n’ shoes,
But couldn’t buy their kid a new coat for school?
Damn.
You’re living up in Heaven, but I know you’re mad as Hell.
All I need is one life, one try, one breath, I’m one man.
What I stand for speaks for itself…they don’t understand.
I’ve been to college, but to be truthfully frank:
Weed is knowledge, cause it makes me think.
Lyrical lecture, word architecture,
Rap director, the best in my sector.
Microphone cool chief, releasin the smooth speech…
I get nasty with a pen and some loose leaf.
I got beef with commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth
Lampin’ in a Lexus eatin’ beef.
A born terror, a rebel without a pause…
Ain’t never had a good Christmas, so who is Santa Claus?
Americanomics works, and I won’t argue that is true.
But if the economy is getting better, getting better for who?
Well, if you ask me, I’m doing much worse than before,
With the welfare cuts, I don’t eat no more.
So if I did wanna go out, I couldn’t go nowhere,
Cause I ate every last one of them reindeer.
Rudolph first, I went down the list,
I got so hungry, I just couldn’t resist.
I ate Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Dixon,
Fried them up and then started to mix them.
And before you knew it, they were all gone,
I wonder what y’all gonna do about my reindeer song!
It was December 24th on Hollis Ave. in the dark,
When I see a man chilling with his dog in the park.
I approached very slowly with my heart full of fear,
Looked at his dog, oh my God, an ill reindeer!
But then I was illin’ because the man had a beard,
And a bag full of goodies, 12 o’clock had neared.
So I turned my head a second and the man had gone,
But he left his driver’s wallet smack dead on the lawn.
I picked the wallet up, then I took a pause…
Took out the license and it cold said ‘Santa Claus!’