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Im a trend setter with a wicked vendetta |
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Been feather, venomous, skeleton shredder, theres never been better |
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Plus my fourth to the tenth letter rip |
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Heads quick, youre little chick, that deliver get a little glimpse at a |
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Ugly charmer, Gentlemen Caller |
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Sendin them all to hell in a milk crate |
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Forest Whitiker dictate |
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You need to get the dick out your intake |
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You toilets in a gay bar, never gettin your shit straight |
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They'll never find diamonds, as bright as my eyes |
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When I find where my competators hide |
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And then I slice em, Brother Ali, mean muggin emcee |
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Is goin toe to toe with em, Stand nose to nose with em |
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My flow for sho(sure) hit em |
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I thought especially, one word that I speak at a show, could blow the whole system |
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Thats word from the big bad, fat ass, mother****in, Brother Ali |
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Ugh |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
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I'm chokin players like I'm Bob Knight, choke the coaches like I'm Spreewell |
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They bowin to the 'Sayers till they knees swell |
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Shake the game up worse than Single White Females |
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Walkin to they car alone flashin three bills |
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These little kids are talkin 'bout how little I know |
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Boy, I grab a mic and rock you like your Triple 5 Soul |
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With a civilized flow, but if you say my name I'm like Beetlejuice |
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Dice you up and slap you till your teeth are loose |
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I've seen the noose and will not get lynched by the industry |
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Nor will I have a A&R pimpin me stickin his thing in me |
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I'd sing for free for some years if it's clear to me |
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That if I'm there for my team they're there for me |
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For real, I be diligently killin the soliloquies |
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Of these milipeads that try to pass themselves off as ill MC's |
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I weave a web of words so intricately |
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That the English dictionary lacks an adjective to fit me |
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If he want my album tell him not to **** with ATAK |
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He was hatin and Slug told em "(Slug)Bitch to send our tapes back" |
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And if I lose my voice then instead of sayin raps |
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I start paintin facts on the wall with hot crayola crayon wax |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
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No No No |
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I wasn't lyin 'bout them mutha****in hairy hands |
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Well how you think I tear a man till he can barely stand? |
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I share the land with hustlers hollerin my chorus back |
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I'll do anything for the cats that show support like that |
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When I battle they hold my back, y'all most be smokin crack |
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Guys are screamin, "I ain't supposed to rap," come on, you know you're wack |
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These Minnesota cats touch down in places where it's dormant at |
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Bring they mutha****in trophies back |
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I'm like big up my man Optimus Prime |
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I'm like what the **** do rappers got in they mind? |
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I might jump on the stage and start hollerin rhymes |
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Maybe bend your back around and make you swallow your spine |
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It's clear you ain't seen no one this tight in years |
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When I sing I can bring Brian McKnight to tears |
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I have to consume, shit I capture a room |
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And before my son was born I made him dance in the womb |
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MC's put up your titles, I be grabbin em soon |
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Them rappers are doomed, worse than breathing hazardous fumes |
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Like 'Bam!' |
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(There it is...) |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
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You're now rockin with the champion |
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You know you're in a war that can't be won |
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You need to stop and understand me, son |
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Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some |
