(Shaka Loc) Blinded, by the way of the Locs, the haters hold to Extinguish the flames, and blow the roof off with smoke Whether or not it's West Coast, it's Mad Man fa sho this Notice the raw talent, technique, but not no hits Critics crack frowns for holdin' the town down I'm mad now, just so sick of the same sound Formed a method and kept it, use it as a weapon against you Bionic issue, to raise above the role of officials Chronic fatigue Flossin' for nil, innate hatin' chromatic emcees I'm chasin' faces of Satan Waitin' on Daytons, debatin' whether or not to shoot for the stars You know who you are, but you can't keep on jabbin' the jaw I worked too hard, everyone carries a bucket of blood From the sweat glands of a Mad Man, there ain't no love So bizarre, drownin' in a lake called "Hate" Shaka Loc and Nefarious without a debate
(X-Raided) Right before I bark like a mastie With lines harder than mastic Spit rhymes like bullets, swell up your chest like mastisses I've mastered this rap scene Blasted every wack cat I've seen I've got the best flow, no match for this West Coast rap King And that's fact, not fabricated Black Market advocated With rhymes to substantiate it It's fine, avidly hated When I rhyme tragically premeditated raps should be segregated Wack emcees and emcees with skills should be separated Debated in Hip-Hop Senate Empeach all Record label Presidents releasin' as many wack acts as No Limit No critic is bein' critical of their pitiful releases I'm Siskel and Ebert, two thumbs down, rippin' you into plentiful pieces Spit this thesis to the drug pound, flood the mic in a receptacle On stage, holdin' my testicles, speakin' in tongues like a processional You're facin' inevitable spectacles steppin' to me Your mid-section'll be crampin' like it was stretchin' When a professional wreckin' the beat Tears second to me, we all for total domination, COMPLETE Vocal abomination can beat With niggas like shootouts in the streets Verbal automatic release at least a hundred rounds per discharge In hordes, who else you expect to come this hard?
[Chorus 2X: X-Raided + Shaka Loc] (X-Raided) Shaka Loc they playa hatin' (Shaka Loc) And we's aware of this (X-Raided) Cuz what we spit is devastatin' (Shaka Loc) And we's aware of this (X + Shaka Loc) Beware of this, Shaka Loc and Nefarious we terrorists (X-Raided) Fake killas be hesitatin' (Shaka Loc) And we's aware of this
(Shaka Loc) Dispicable scrutiny, interrogated and major hated Strapped across a table unable to illustrate it Certified Mad Man, made man, the script, the blue prints, the big hits Yearly annual licks Get my driver to stop it, the Planet must burn first Shatter Earth with terrorist acts, it's the block or the turf What makes it worse, is I ain't gotta lay down to hurt you The verbal tec shells full of virtue (you better feel me) To kill me, all slowly while we sleepin' So watch for the heat-seeking scuds while you're creepin' Been peepin' out the wicked ways on how you be handlin' business, Midget Done focused in on how to get the digits, and did it I broke down my heat in pieces Now chronicalistically speaking, you should have no liking for this thesis Point blank, the bottom line not to understate this project Cuz where we at you'z about to wreck
Chorus (.5x)
(X-Raided) We deadly, quick to perpatrate like they want to confrontate DJ's honor Raided I serve emcees to get exonerated It's on to me, that rap that your Mama hated Cuz I created rhymes about jackin' and comin' after ya Doin' things that's crime related I'm related to all killas, all thieves, and G's Got lyrics in my genes, my Grandma breeds emcees Like Dogs, say "Sic Him", I hit him, and split him at the seams Go for the jugular, muggin' ya like a New York City scene I smother ya like a Mother that doesn't want her kid to inhale Tortorous abortion, bodily forcin' you into Hell Snortin' and exhale fire like medieval dragons We evil Mad Men, for hire we leave people in trash bins Leap with ferocity, X-Raided will shock all these trash rappers Leave your track with gashes like it was attacked by velociraptors I'd be at them platinum ones Like Old Dirty Bastard I'ma get a Grammy If I gotta run up in the ceremony with a gat and a gun Understand me, I make your balls split I make your dome shiver Split your throat, with a sliver of my platinum plaque I slither over tracks like snakes Deliver raps with no mistakes I'm a cobra spittin' venom in your face
Chorus (.5x)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
