|
I remember when, last past November when |
|
Clown kid got pounded in with the Timberland |
|
They left him trembling, he was not remembering: |
|
Never tuck your denim in just to floss an emblem |
|
Some would debate, "Wait, the fella ate gelatin |
|
Or even listening in to what his weathermens was telling him" |
|
When I could feel it in my melanin, it's compelling |
|
Us to break them off, no reassembling |
|
No science-fiction to no theater near you, coming soon to |
|
Fuck with you frequently like how phases of the moon would do |
|
You could gather 'round like it was an eclipse |
|
Just don't look directly to the bitch, you may be blinded by the crips |
|
Pass the L, the last to tussle in them shirttails |
|
All hail, King Geedorah, the third rail |
|
700 volts holds rap to a standstill |
|
Fool ignore the rule, fuck up and get his man killed |
|
Two bottles of Dom got his hands filled |
|
And so goes the days of our lives as the hourglass sand spill |
|
And built with Passion and a glass of the 'Ze |
|
[And the lights went down and hey!] |
|
And I knew it was the last day ... Wig-Twisting Season |
|
When some could get their wigs twisted back within reason |
|
Mostly with these crimes of treason |
|
And you'll be lucky if there's no squeezing even this evening |
|
From how he's feeling, thrilling choice of flow is sick |
|
He's the villain with the million dollar voice-throat trick |
|
He's like a ventriloquist, with his fist in the speaker's back |
|
Couldn't think of no uniquer track, nope, sneak attack |
|
It don't really matter how big them is, so much as a nipple |
|
'Cause you could have a chick with D-Triple |
|
'Cept the nipple little, just hot off the griddle |
|
Like how he do monkey rhymers, like Monkey-in-the-Middle by his damn self |
|
Ain't no average MC ahead of me |
|
Getting cheddar instead of the probably better pedigree |
|
With nicknames, sick games as Rick James |
|
Messy games, sci-fi such as Jesse James |
|
Blast, I figure, ass-hawking ass titty licker |
|
Last one to walk up in, fast-talking city slicker |
|
Got bagged 'cause of the dirty chick with make-up |
|
Bail out quick for the 7:30 wake-up |
|
My only backup was an A-cup, as far as May |
|
To when the leaves turn red and gold to Nimrod's earthday |
|
All else? Worthless to say |
|
[And the lights went down and hey!] |
|
That's when I knew it was the first day ... Wig-Twisting Season |
|
When some could get their wigs twisted back within reasoning |
|
Mostly with these crimes of treason men |
|
And y'all be lucky if there's no squeezing even this evening |
|
... |
|
It's like a mosquit-ah, the much sweeter resent the act |
|
I been bent back since my Physical went back |
|
Since, Cultured more of my kin |
|
And for them I keep an L rolled in this hellhole |
|
Hold your head, use your head and hold, or be dead and cold |
|
In the worsest way, soon as the leaves show red and gold |
|
To 'round Nimrod's release day |
|
And all else? Needless to say |
|
Wait a motherfucking minute, true facts presented |
|
The names was probably changed just to protect who ain't in it |
|
The XP was three-quarters tinted, 4/5ths was converted |
|
The way his shit was twisted? Ask him if it hurted |
|
... |
|
... Wig-Twisting Season |
|
When some could get their wigs twisted back within reasoning |
|
Mostly with these crimes of lying, and fronting, and cheating |
|
All types of different styles of treason |
