Lyrics:
I spit bars you’ll turn pale
New school emcees be featherweights on scales
Ya’ll frail and so is yo rhyme schemes
It’s cheap yo technics weak by all
Classic genre, I'll do any of 'em
Classic genre, I'll do any of 'em
Classic genre, I'll take any offer
You can keep your Grammy and your
Pussies
Fall in and get quoted y'all
Yeah
It's Cashis
Welcome to the Shady game
G's up
Obie went plat
An' he back with another classic
50
About to be forty-six years old, dog
Talkin' 'bout "I'ma call up Trick Trick"
Man, you sound like a bitch, bitch
Man up and handle your shit (ugh)
Mad
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
Yoyoyo Zeff MC
Time rennt, neus jahr same lüt meh gäud ufem tacho gseni nume noh big dreams yo
Chauti wäut cheap tricks mau rächts mau links darum
I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia
Said me and my homeboy were coming out with an album
You looked at me like, "Yeah, nigga right"
But you
A little swiss rapper who's gonna conquer this scene
With rhymes addictive like morphine
Their gonna be classic like ol' Africa by Toto
I leave you
than a bachelor pad
We’re here to take our city back - capture the flag
Setting next year’s fads, y’all still rappin’ ‘bout swag
Get your album shrink
betcha betta know ian steppin’ by my
Motha fuckin' self I got the gang with me on this Album all we do is bang
Its OT$ Gang we betta than you lames putcha
traffic just to fly kites
Time out, the free-style rhyme out, my last rights
Fuck a classic album, give my life 5 mics
And when the smoke clears, you
and the advice
Drunk, walkin' out in traffic just to fly kites
Time out, the free style rhyme out, my last rights
Fuck a classic album, give my life 5 mics
quest
A greed law
That we abide by is ruthless
Enough will never satisfy
Until we toothless
Filthy millionaires
Are gamblin' until they muflis
trophy
I don't need no album budget, I record and make my own beats
Hit the studio all by myself, stand on my own feet
I'm a different breed, I do this
and make some dough
What you got, are only ideals, reality is cruel
I've, studied the market, made classics, blow up should be automatic
Albums illmatic,
Freeze my heart locked in a ice box minus 30 degrees
I'm on my sub zero shit I be letting it breeze
Just made my album in a week I did that shit with
About to be forty-six years old, dog
Talkin' 'bout "I'ma call up Trick Trick"
Man, you sound like a bitch, bitch
Man up and handle your shit (ugh)
Mad
Just point out the bounce
Yes, just point out the bounce nigga
Yo, listen
Rumor has it "The Blueprint" classic
Couldn't even be stopped by Bin
Jersey
Now we can do this a couple of different ways, it really depends
Could give them classic NY jeans over the Timbs
Or I could spit about my car
thing that their funky futurist
Classic Stankonia album suggests
This is true of their backing singers, too
And also the brilliantly-primed musicians who
Elijah Williams, Carlos Franco
Gabriel Ellis shout out to all my niggas
In Paris and New Jersey
Aight, I gotta go work back on my album
It's classic
cheap, got it locked from A to Z.
Contemplating doing dirt, but that's not the way to be, homie.
CHORUS:
Yeah, I'm doing me.
Trying to make a dollar, be
of you needing further reference
You may, purchase the Redman album, the first one
Listen to the song "How to Roll a Blunt"
But until then, you shall
always what it seems
We dropped "Super Tight" a album full of killer flows
But then we got caught up with the drugs and the hoes
We didn't realize what
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