Pears

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Cavalier

The term Cavalier () was first used by Roundheads as a term of abuse for the wealthier Royalist supporters of King Charles I and his son Charles II of England during the English Civil War, the Interregnum, and the Restoration (1642 – c. 1679). It was later adopted by the Royalists themselves. Although it referred originally to political and social attitudes and behaviour, of which clothing was a very small part, it has subsequently become strongly identified with the fashionable clothing of the court at the time. Prince Rupert, commander of much of Charles I's cavalry, is often considered to be an archetypal Cavalier. more »

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Burnin' hot
Emcees I be burnin' burnin' hot
Whoa-hoa-hoa!
Whoa-hoa-hoa!

On God word to my Black mother
That be the same thing
I got a bell that you can't ring
I got a whistle that you can't blow
No second fiddles on that swang low
I got a current that you can't tow
I'm on the beach watching them surf a death wave
It's record breaking triple x-rays
They rubber-necking like it's sex tapes
It's like they catch you when you gestate
Hit Mr. Drummond with that catch phrase
"what you talking bout?" segue
Everything aint for everybody
She said she's falling so I'm catching bodies
I rush the chronic past my epiglottis
I play it modest when I ingest the goddess honest
I spit this verse when I'm eating her out
So word is born soon as she skeet in the couch
That's how we even this out
Her pearly whites her creamy skin Guinness Stout
I'm just conceiving all my blessings on an evening's account
To flee these demons of doubt
See them clocking all my dossiers I'm bleeding them out
It's too much watchy watchy macoing kikiing about
And then the constant probe now to how the god elevated
Not obligated to respond the conversation was tainted
It's vibrational aint it
It's vibrational aint it
They thought It's about being famous
Or for your entertainment
It's vibrational aint it
It's vibrational aint it

I be burnin' burnin' hot
Whoa-hoa-hoa!
I be burnin' burnin' hot
Whoa-hoa-hoa!
Whoa-hoa-hoa!

The picture be like real niggas
We don't fade
I hear the whispers but you bumping my tape
It's superb like a crepe or a cape but it's whatevs
You herbs get burned in the papes when I take breaths
Don't know what you thought
Or what you thought it to be
I hear you talkin' you aint talkin' to me
They still ignoring the real portrait of Dorian Gray
That sort of thing an audience ought to be seeing fake
I'm being great
I did it with Mogilla, Q, Paul, Iman and Malik
I'm more Toussaint than puta not even poquito
For keeps don't got it for mooches or the cheapos
Please, please you don't want no trouble here
On God keep it a buck, stack, a hunned, a thou-wow
All of these clown mouths should bow out
Or stand down like you have gout
It's now too many rounds
Throw in the towels or ShamWows
My Simbas pounce
Snuck in the snub nose the snout go blaow blaow
I'm what amounts from black pudding and souse
Smoking blacks rolled in a crooked Owl
They rookies to Brooklyn they never looked at the towers
They soapy mouthed loose lips
Breaking the bough
I'm on the bow of my own ship taking a bow
They taking the vows on God
Baow Baow Baow

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