This is just a test of the frequency/ You can be a hood without delinquency/ Cause I be the rhyme and the rhyme be me/ Whatever I be the rhyme be.
V1 I break the average nigga down, just like decomposition/ On a mission to chart the art of rhyming way beyond traditions/ Equally, you’ll find my vision’s gone beyond the 20/20/ Had enough of these niggas showin’ me just who be on the money/ I catch phrases out of the blue like touchdown throws to wide recievers, So, “Hail Mary”, But you couldn’t “Run with me” if you were Gail Deavers/ I got that monotone lyric for your recievers/ Don’t don’t deceive us, cause we don’t believe in non-believers/ My style is more golden than that of a child who owns retrievers/ I shine like I’m David Helfgott, Searching for wealth, not solely/ But baby, “Do Ya Rilly Kno What’s going on?”/ I be that tech president that you Elec(t) like TRON/ I base data on databases, so it’s too complicated to trace this/ And with no flava you gotta face it, You’re tasteless/ The way that I embrace this is like huggin’ a cripple/ Invisible individuals get scratched like they’re pickles/ I physically tickle your mind, like water that trickles over your nipples/ I drip, cause lyrically I keep it kinky/ Hookers wanna drink me, but they can’t handle my tricks/ Cause I’ve been known for putting chip-clips on my bitches’ tits/ It hits the year 2K, and it’s a whole different story/ Don’t need will smith to talk about Miami for me/ Cause If I got a positive vibe, and a quote from a negative source/ Saying my Rap Sheet was Right On!, like what I’d do to the bus on my tours/ For sure I’m not a tourist, I’m a purist/ Came into the land of rhyme, sanded the hourglass and I cuffed the hands of time/ To arrest your interest and express with mine/ Niggas can check me out with ten items or less, while you regress and stand in line/ They play the way like pantomimes, I only touch ‘em with mitts/ I tell ‘em, “Shut the fuck up!”, and yo, they can’t say shit/ I’m giving verbal facelifts to those with traces of painted faces/ So, I’ma tell you what the case is.
Chorus
V2 So, when it comes to the written rhyme, the ink effects are diabolical/ Off the top of the dome like George Jefferson’s hair follicles/ !?What?!, You put the ass in astronomical/ Any attempt by you to even make a def jam could pass for comical/ More psychological than movie thrillers, boxing niggas like Helena in Manila/ Extract ‘em like vanilla/ For real, I never had a dope name to profess/ But relied on my skill when it came to the test/ I’m blessed in the trade of my native expression/ If late is my time, then my rhyme be inte-resting/ I question the power of a star/ Cause kids be singing “love live the king”, like my name was Uncle Scar/ So, “Can you feel the buzz tonight?” I never mean it in a blunt way, cause some say that they’re the flyest when the drums play/ They’re bound to go down just like morale on hump day/ Cause once they front, an omen will hunt they’re ass down in my name/ Cause I box out them niggas that’s surrounding my game/ In any way shape or form/ I did circles on those who weren’t breaking the norm/ And I’m the first to try angles that you ain’t figured before/ You’ve forged on more lines than my written signature/ And my shit’ll be hitting for sure upon the canvas/ I planned this tonight so you might understand this.
Chorus
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