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(Gift of Gab) |
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And I come like this |
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(scratched) |
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I've got a few things I wanna say |
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(Gift of Gab) |
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I'm gunnin', ya runnin away, do not stay |
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Cuz the wrath of the gift will be hittin' ya spliff |
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And a lot of the crews got sprayed and yelled RAID |
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Like a couple of roaches, as struggle approaches, |
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a brother'll blow this |
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Another ferocious jam, I smother the ?grossagran? |
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I hover above the land of lame emcees that dont blow |
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I'm poppin' the clip and then bo bo with the gun |
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And a once in a munch chest, rest in peace |
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And I ?bellow you to beast? I abolish emcees with sounds like these |
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Run over enemies and I rest in the west- |
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ern hemisphere, burn wit a fear is nothin but a mere setback |
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Hear when I'm here, |
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earn wit a clear conscience in the middle of the jet black |
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I'm a dog, running through the jungle |
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wit a hoodie and black hat choppin down emcees |
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Not a frog, cunning yet I'm humble |
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gotta do the jewels tack wack talkin clowns |
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Tip me, I'ma knock 'em all around, bust a front |
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With a fat blunt swinging on a vine in the homeland |
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I'ma tack 'em in the sound little punks when the rap bump |
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Springin on the rhyme I bowl man |
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Gifted when I'm lifted off a spliff hit, |
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reminisce shit, riff with dipshits |
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This shit is the mischievous style of the gifted, |
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I'm a whiz kid, get a whiff kid |
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Swingin' down low, breakin' down flows |
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with a new flow medley outgrow when you step back |
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To the black with a fat rap with a fat sack |
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with a little bit a funk in my napsack |
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Take it back to the brother land |
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and I was smotherin' stupid idiots like Tarzan |
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Givin' back to the brother man and get another land, |
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man gimme it, its Or-land-o |
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How easy and tight wishin' into the depths |
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up in the sound in the heart of the jungle |
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Gettin' wild with the art of the rumble, |
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never amount to be smarter than Dumbo |
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Make 'em mumble, make 'em humble, |
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Get me round from the start, you will crumble, |
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and you tumble, and you stumble |
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And I do it like that |
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From the end to the other end never gonna end, |
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set a trend with the maniac mic clutch |
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Hey Bob I'd advise that you keep your day job |
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my competitors never know the right touch |
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Have to bail through the backstreets, raisin' hell to a black beat |
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Rappers fail to attack me, like a sail with the slack g |
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I attack 'em like acne, exactly UGH |
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(spoken) |
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Mindless cretins grow through idiosynchrosy |
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Peels up, rising up, down |
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(Lateef) |
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Steppin' up through the deep, dank murkiness |
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No telling what is lurking |
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I hero it, but will I sense a jerkin |
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I proceed to bust a buster |
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cuz I trust the finer design in the mind of the rhyme |
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Just about impossible to find |
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What a disgrace to the race of wack emcees |
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I am because I choose to stand my ground |
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FIRM and blowin' the rhythm the vermin and learnin' |
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All I know is we've earned every inch we've attained |
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And strained to gain, and what I'm tryin' to explain is that |
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The deeper we're creepin' the more we find sleepin' |
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And slippin' just shootin' dead lips on a mission |
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Its missin' the reason the gift we've been given the rhythm |
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Cuz that just the way we've been livin |
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And thrive in the essence, survive and its easy |
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To recognize when analyzing the flow |
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Surprises the lame in this line and tryin' |
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To get you to buy into their fantasy world |
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Can it be damaged the ?emina? bones |
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of the fellas and men thats exploting my culture |
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Can't understand every breast that you touch |
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was as up ?paper scun? be one hung motherfucker |
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Suckas nowadays, is fallin' and splinterin', just like timber, instead of |
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Gettin out of my way, and what I'm -- meaning to say is that |
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The canopy that covers me now is the blackest, attack this |
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I thought we already established the wackness |
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Presented in the cemented jungle |
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by the bumblin' brothers stumblin' tumblin' down |
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Surroundin me in a cannibalistic style, but I just smile and |
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Silence 'em like the lambs, they are the whole flock |
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We just one magic stockpile |
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I'm gettin' 'em off like crack viles, and wicked the whole fuckin while |
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Not trippin over no vines, or over no swine, or over no mines |
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Or over no line at the plot |
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Thinkin' of whippin' 'em like a glock in the jungle |
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(spoken) |
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Now in the beginning of the journey |
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Not in time, but in the mind |
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Imagine the camels being loaded up |
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The men, loading themselves up |
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It's a long journey -- the oasis is all in the clamor |
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As we start from the top we go to the very bottom |
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Of a mysterious place -- a very mysterious place |
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What's that I see? Ahhhh |
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(Lyrics Born) |
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I can't even describe you, so I ain't even gon' try...mmmmhm |
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Making hell of MC Asias is now this I dont dispute but you knew |
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You knew Lyrics Born was a ripped off note sheet of a hundred |
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And you scrape the paint off your bumpers making sure you beat the buzzer |
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Making sure Lyrics Born came out his mother's stomach |
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covered with the lyrics that kill |
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No bumper, right? Cuz mo'fucka |
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I know you can make colors rhyme |
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And have the whole goddamn planet yellin uncle at you and even |
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Still take the time big up little ?egg?, can you imagine? |
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Big up Asia Born, this little bottle |
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Or that you would even be lightly concerned with little, little worms |
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That you would tug at the line, pullin' the kind |
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Of lyrics out my mouth that make me big bad don, takin' kids' legs home |
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You can't even back a sliver roach, you know |
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That type shit, and then watch me wreck this stage |
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Boy like I got your daddy's style hangin' around my waist |
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And then watch me forget -- the way |
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Good lyrics taste, thinkin' I just ate little rabbit eyes in your heart |
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Man, cuz if I thought it was just |
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Lyrics Born that made lyrics born, lyrics born |
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And then suddenly I can't do no more, I'd be like |
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"Do you remember me?" No, Asia |
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And you used to play my record on the way to the vapor |
