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It's 2005 |
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I'm 'bout to blow some heads off, man |
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I got so much *************t 'bout to hit these dudes, man |
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Feast (?) classic, Juju Mob classic, y'know I mean? |
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My team is comin', Good Hands |
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[Verse 1:] |
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Yo, I give it to you straight, never speak fakely |
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Shareef T lace it, they say he's crazy |
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I'm only Lost Cauze when I got the .380 |
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This is my costume, no moniker to make you eat daisies |
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None needed, son *******ed |
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For some reason, on the mic I become some demon |
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Other emcees eat they lungs even |
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You think not? Come see 'em |
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From the stage you will run fleein' |
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I need more cowbell, throw in your towels |
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You make the crowd swell with bottles |
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Thrown at you, I'm the grave robber, throne snatcher |
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Don't matter, I attack like throat cancer |
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You can't rap, but you's a **** dancer |
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A hype man, go adjust my mic stand |
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I roll with ???, who love to make your life stop |
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You've been dismissed, go home and get your *************ne box |
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[Chorus:] |
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[Echo:] It's the Cauze, it's the Cauze... |
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[Scratch: KRS-One] Emcees act like they don't know |
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[Scratch: 50 Cent] I'm the underground king, and I ain't been crowned |
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[Scratch: Styles P] Mother*******s hit your knees and just pray to the Lord |
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[Verse 2:] |
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No pimp cup, no gators (?) |
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No trucker hat, no blazer |
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I'm from the city that spawned Joe Frasier |
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Bernard Hopkins, stay the ************* out of my zone, haters |
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Now I'm no Messiah, I'm no savior |
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But when the mic's in my clutch there's no greater |
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It's like a vato loco with no razor |
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A black man's Kool Aid with no flavor |
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ESPN with no Raiders |
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Or the Lost Cauze out for sale with no takers |
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That movie +Tron+ with no lasers |
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An episode of +Oz+ with no rapers |
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The X Games with no skaters |
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You get the gist; my only exercise is sit and twist |
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I'm just as quick as Michael Vick |
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Cuz I'm getting' blitzed like a three-four defense |
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Won't be tackled in the Three Four Precinct |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse 3:] |
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I'm the omen in rhyme form |
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You soft as nylon |
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I spit hot fire like Dilawn, Dilawn, Dilawn |
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Mind gone from buds 's big as pine cones |
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The Lost Cauze is a mother******g cyclone |
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Get caught in my path, and I divide homes |
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You don't want to die, homes |
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I talk with my nine chrome |
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He's highly upset |
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Rush the stage with pure rage if you deny me a set |
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I ain't playin', dog |
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This is beast music, this is Reef music |
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Treat your face like bongos, this the beat movement |
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Daddy-yo the beat bruiser, leave your teeth looser |
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You'll be foolish to not cop that +Feast+, stupid |
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Cuz this a banger-banger, ******* the thing and bang ya |
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Danger, danger, one remains in the chamber |
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Hot wire hanger, bash your face in |
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Now go ************* yourself like masturbation |
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The father of this bastard nation |
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I'm hard like chemistry and math equations |
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Leave your face full of holes like the mask of Jason |
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I'm past the waitin', getting at these bastards hatin' |
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I'm sicker than a ************* Hatian filling his veins with H hits |
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My gun plastic like some fake ************* (*************!) |
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I don't make hits, I just crap classics that make you want to break *************t |
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You fake *************! |
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Bleh! Bleh! Bleh! Bleh! Bleh! |
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[Talking] |
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White Boy 1: Everybody's always talking about the legends, they talking |
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About Biggie and Pac (White Boy 2: Yeah, ************* those two) and Pun and Big L |
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No one's talking about the real legends (WB2: Hell yeah) |
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The guys on top right now (WB2: Hell yeah) |
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I'm talking about the Sages (WB2: Sage? Sage is down with the Klan!) |
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The Aesops, ??? Combustion right here, are you kidding me? |
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[WB3:] (Old school rap is doo doo, dude, it's garbage) |
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He's the next big thing, listen to him |
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[WB3:] I need, like, beats that don't even sound like beats |
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[WB1:] Yeah, exactly, they should be like "ERr Err err err" |
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[WB3:] Who wants to dance anymore anyways? |
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[WB2:] It's the blacks |
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[WB3:] Yo, yo, rip that *************t Combustion |
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[Combustion: Rapping] |
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Yo, yo, yo, yo |
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My rhyme style you can't even measure |
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Cuz I flow like Helium (WB2: Mmm) at 40 times a******ospheric pressure (WB2: |
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Here he goes) |
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I'm super fluid nice, can't rap but I can almost write (WB2: Uh ha) |
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Can't fight but I can almost bite |
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Hate Bush cuz he's stealing my rights |
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Actually I just like to gripe (WB2: West Hartford, what!) because my skin is |
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White |
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I hate my dad, see, cuz he don't like |
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Paying for me to sit on my ass and smoke this pipe (WB2: Go John) |
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That's what I do because I'm so bored |
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Got this super silver haze ******* that you can't afford (WB2: Connecticut!) |
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And I'm crazy fly like the Wright Brothers |
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Nerd rapper of the yo, yo, yo man like Tom and *************'s mothers |
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Might be ??? ugly, but I'm "Mister Lover Lover" |
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[Black A&R:] |
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Man, that *************t is corny, man. Ok? |
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Let me tell you somethin' |
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My artist Corleone Capone from Big Dog Entertainment (Barks) |
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He gon' eat yo' *************t... |
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Ay, Corleone, tells these *************z how the street, hood, y'know'm sayin' |
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Rich, big time, killa crack *************z do it |
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[Corleone:] |
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Yo, yo this young Corleone Capone a force of AKA Real Clinton |
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Y'feel what I'm sayin'? |
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[Rapping:] Yo, I cop the coke, pop the toast |
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Keep a bottle of Cris to pop and toast |
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Cook the crack, cut the crack, I sell the crack |
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I love the crack! Then I mix and I got crack, ************* |
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Keep a gat that'll put it in your back, ************* |
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Four shots you'll be layin' out flat, *************, OH! |
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Pop the top, drop the top |
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Cop a grip, chop the block |
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About to cop the block, the block is hot |
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The block is a block that block the blocks, OH! Feel me?! |
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I rock the rocks, that rock the rocks |
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Then drop the drop, cop the shot, the pop... |
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I got shots for tops, *************z! |
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[Talking: with A&R talking *************t in the background] |
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Young Corleone Capone a force of AKA Real Clinton, y'know'm sayin'? |
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JFK Jr. of this rap *************t, y'know'm sayin'? |
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I got bricks comin' out my ass, *************, y'know'm sayin'? |
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I sleep bricks, *************, y'know'm sayin'? |
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I got ******* everywhere, *************, yea! |
