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Lone Catalysts |
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Yo |
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I grab these microphones to live, son |
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Pay the rent, put food on the table |
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Got a roof over my head |
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But I take it serious |
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No joke |
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[VERSE 1: J. Sands] |
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Comin straight out the box, first edition, nutrition |
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From musicians, food for thought when you listen |
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I been around the atlas, countries and states |
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Everybody knows the Catalysts bumps, beats and breaks |
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The most true to life rap tactics for practise |
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The fact is, I tilt a nigga off his axis |
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The way that Sands taxes, doin his mic matches |
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Somethin massive, let me explain what the wrath is |
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Four hundred years of oppression, anger, aggression |
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And the anxiety of a blackman stressin |
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The devil keep on testin, always gotta offer his suggestions |
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Make it seem greater when it's less than |
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That's just tricknowledge |
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They teach you it from high school through college |
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So you can go out and get them dollars |
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It's just a game they play to see who has the fattest wallet |
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That's why most blacks smoke crack and most white alcoholics |
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[CHORUS: J. Sands] |
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I grab these microphones to live, son, rest in peace Big Pun |
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Because you know another day you're not promised to live one |
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Yo, the streets are hot, most blocks are like a prison |
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So if you're lookin for love, kid, you gots to give some |
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Man, these days are cold-blooded, everyone's butted |
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Rock jewels that stay flooded, the weak, they never cut it |
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Sometime I be like 'what if' but ain't a damn thing gonna change |
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Cause it's just part of the game |
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[VERSE 2: J. Sands] |
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Aiyo, I slap-box lyrics through mics, the smooth type |
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That move right into a state of mind to fight |
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Cause it's all ground zero, my street level bureau |
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We'll play this game until we master it like Ken Duro |
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So what's your role? My part is the aural |
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Sub-moral, Lone Catalysts remain plural |
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I'm like ???? headin out to ???? |
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Maryland, in a caravan to a rural |
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Spot to make a drop-off, that's how I hustle my raps to prosper |
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Cause MC's disappear like Jimmy Hoffa |
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The hungriest cats are at the crib writin this very minute |
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They see the pennant and wanna win it |
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That's how styles get invented |
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Y'all new jack timid frontin-ass niggas rhymes be rented |
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I got no respect for y'all, y'all probably be the next to fall |
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You wanna bang, kid, should be waitin for the ref to call |
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A time-out, so you can find out |
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Any possible way to exit this rhyme bout |
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[CHORUS] |
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[VERSE 3: J. Sands] |
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Okay now let me get back to the session at hand |
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My DJ's name is Jason Rawls, I don't need no band |
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Yo, I travel across the land, microphone in hand |
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Do some dates out west so I can work on my tan |
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I guess it's just the rap life |
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Y'all know who y'all niggas act like? |
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Quick to blaze the bag pipe and talk about the last night |
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Some are real grimey muthafuckas up in the fast life |
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Don't give a damn about rap cause they're stresin the crack price |
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(And grip the Mack tight) Some niggas frail like a glass pipe |
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With more bodyguards than Bill Clinton around they ass, type |
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To walk the streets at night carryin a flashlight |
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Some are players grabbin all the mamis on they ass tight |
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Bust it, some smoke weed, get skeed, hashis |
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Dust and ecstacy, shrooms and drink ??booze?? |
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For all my rappin niggas, I hope we link soon |
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Get yours, I'm gettin mine, cause it's about time |
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[CHORUS] |
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A life... |
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Yo, I wanna give a shoutout to everybody in hip-hop who couldn't be here |
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Yo, Big Pun |
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Freaky Tah |
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Big L |
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Scott La Rock |
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Trouble T Roy |
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MC Trouble |
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Keith Cowboy |
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Peace |
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We miss you |
