|
Intro Sample: |
|
Shit, mother****er you talkin' to the kid. |
|
Talking (Brother Ali): |
|
Yeah. Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls |
|
The one and only Brother Ali is in the house tonight |
|
That's me. We gettin' directly into this right here |
|
Verse One: |
|
Hold up |
|
Do you mind? I'm trying to build a kingdom here |
|
Walk to the store with your boy let's get a ginger beer |
|
Listen here I got some shit to sprinkle in your ear |
|
Rip and tear the kick and snare, whistle like Rakim was near |
|
Independent penmanship, sending bitch-tendency-havin'-rich-rappers to their residences |
|
My present tense is legendary livin' |
|
Like my fifty grand merch, work for what I'm givin' |
|
Build and add to it with the skill I mastered it |
|
Carefully grabbin' shit to build a castle with |
|
Ended up champion of underground rappin' |
|
It ain't what I imagined but I still ain't mad at it |
|
I'm in a college town bossin' that crowd around |
|
Raise your hands, wave em up, do it like this and holler out |
|
Like a Gladiator movie score |
|
Try to teach a cracker rapper how to clap on two and four |
|
In the crowd I'm shakin' peoples hands |
|
Just to take an equal stance with my barely legal fans |
|
Can't believe they ass came and heard him raw |
|
Made em want to run and hug him with a sweaty shirt and all |
|
Labels turn me off, I ain't what they lookin' for |
|
I ain't got a six pack, tatoo or a bullet hole |
|
But I'm muscle underneath all that |
|
You get your peanut smacked |
|
I scrap like I'm Butterbean on crack |
|
How he manage not to catch heat flashes? |
|
On stage Adidas jacket doin' Heavy D dances |
|
These rappers are graffiti on canvas |
|
Even if they snappin' they could only be half of it |
|
Chorus: |
|
I say shit mother****er shit |
|
Ali and I'm sittin' on another hit |
|
He got his fist up to the government |
|
Still tryin' to get his dick sucked, son of a bitch |
|
So let me talk my shit |
|
C'mon now, let me talk my shit |
|
Calm down, let me talk my shit |
|
Verse Two: |
|
Let me start off my shit like this |
|
Quiet down now the masters rappin' |
|
And Ant got his back trying to craft a classic |
|
Joe Mabbott track, they have to grab it |
|
Like my dick when they...naw, I ain't sayin' that shit |
|
We all thought some weak lines by now |
|
But you actually rewind and write yours down |
|
You must be high in the studio to speak it |
|
And then decide to keep it and release it |
|
So either you believe it |
|
Or you don't give three shits about havin' lyrics, you can take it or leave it |
|
So if you're not really thinkin' about the things that you say |
|
Then don't call me a hater when I feel the same way |
|
Came up in the day, listening to the greats |
|
Love the smell of fate, half a cotton and a weight? |
|
I ain't dumbin' down you're gonna have to smarten up |
|
Too tough, your blade ain't sharp enough to cut |
|
Bout to **** em up |
|
Someone should have ran and told him that I'm nuts |
|
Buttercup ain't tryin' to knuckle up |
|
Sock 'em in the eye, baby, slug 'em in the gut |
|
Should have never let the Brother run a muck |
|
What the ****! |
|
Chorus |
|
Verse Three: |
|
Big bad, fat ass |
|
Cat that can rap fast |
|
Straight up nasty like a New Orleans lap dance |
|
Last chance to pass on the chitterlings |
|
But act now and we can still split a thing of chicken wings |
|
Fredo Corleone, bitch kiss the pinky ring |
|
Backpack raps answer to Sam Kinison |
|
Is in your town |
|
Act like your shit isn't brown |
|
Your highness probably piss sitting down |
|
These Eddie Brock MCs is so venomous |
|
Can't seem to picture the authenticness |
|
Trying to keep up is bad for your health |
|
It's a walk in the park, I'm photographing myself |
|
Chorus |
|
Scratching: |
|
"People round town talkin' this and that" - EPMD on "So Whatcha Sayin'" |