Lyrics:
the camera man's the canon fodder
Ironic cause the turn ups so real I got rejected by my dance partner
Speaking broken English but the music is my trance
around Medusa
Feeding my pockets, Sol Phenduka
That baraclava like I'm Dj Sbuda
I'm building the dream shout out
King Martin Luther
Can't tell my next
seldom seen
Down in Mississippi and New Orleans
Motherfuckas know about the D-O dub not he on buzz
Not he on drugs and she on cuz
DJ Khaled aqui on cuz
she all alone
Wish her man would just come home
Police come up to her crib
Her man caught two up to his dome
Just playin' I ain't a killer but don't
your man
That nigga boring sneak dissing
Who does that? you corny talk money
Wanna stay broke ignore me
Paying homage to the ones that came before me
Now
of
Y'all hear it and hear it first hand from
An intelligent brown man, a vegetarian
No goat or ham or chicken
Or turkey or hamburger
'cause to me that's
find me surrounded by the kings
Locked and loaded brother I am there
Hold up let me get sharp
Tonight I plan to play with honey
Lord forgive me if I sin
filler
King of the drop, they'll never be much iller
Top medical grade dope baby, Chevrolet sitting up like Grave Digger, roll over your Mercedes
And I
He was the heavyweight king at the age of 21
From the streets of New York where they're all called mean
He never had no mom, never had no dad
His
"I spit it clearly"
"Y'all hear me?" "I spit it clearly"
"Y'all hear me?" "I spit it clearly"
DJ Babu scratching
Yeah, we celebrating this, man
We
69 Manor Road, Sunday morning
Dorothy be up but Jennifer be yawning
Rachel a get her hair braided, I spoil it
One side be looking like Don King
idolize coons in rap videos
That side with the oppressor and y’all still buying their shitty clothes
That’s not why i took 15 bullet holes
Man i tried
relative fans
Gangsters journalists addicts girls
Neighbours djs producers etcetera
There's a lot of you so I solve it
I don't wanna turn into a covid
first dog
During the making of this mixtape
No A&R's label executives or industry DJ's were hurt
This message has been brought to you
By the trill folks
left they tryna get right
Thriller yeah I am a thriller
I be like King Kong how I go realer
All the boys are fat enemies are thinner
Never been one you
This is a certified hood classic
Owen Masters mastered this beat
Punchin' on a hater sandwich, fuck a B, B and J
Fuck Burger King, I got haters on my
of the 12-sided dice||I've got a profitable brain, supernatural eyes|Multiplied by|The galactic vigilante strapped twice|What's your answer, Dungeon
(It's the Switch up, baby)
Man what happened to rap
Look
Man what happened to rap
Man, these rappers so typical
I drop a smash record
All these
[ VERSE 1 ]
I'm rhymin and designin, also creatin
The dope def rhyme that is always being taken
By a sucker MC that wants to be like me
No trait
Yo, on the M-I-C right about now, I go by the name of Big Daddy Kane
I got my Man Scoob Lover on the side of me
Dj Mister Cee on the wheels
finesse got a soul, and d so
Suckers are gettin rich with no type of written hits
But when approached by me they start shittin bricks
I'm not sayin to jump
of the bus,
She told me she could make it to my house by twelve,
So we could get it on, just amongst ourselves,
She came to, I had a blunt to blow,
After that,
protect us and I promise it all get better
Thats Six steps ahead of yha, a king, checkmate
Sow my royal oats, Prince Akeem, man death waits for no man
a shooting range
And now your living room ain't safe to fucking live again
So much fucking scratch I need a DJ name
I'ma light the scene up like a movie man
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