3 acessos
Kept
I'm a b-boy
That's the best way to define me
Born in '81, been rhymin' since the early 90's
And I don't plan on stoppin' any time soon
That's why fools try to be down with my crew
What you recitin' feeble chatter (?), either that or beatin' off
Peace to no-name breathin' patterns that'll leave 'em lost
I keep a choke-chain on the people's thoughts
Teach the whole game how to read between the chalk
Okay, we so crazy, don't play me, just pay me you babies
I break teeth on fake freaks (?), and maybe, just maybe, you might live
That's solely dependent on you mic skills
You rap slowly homie, no regard for what's ill
Still I hope you're not the nicest of you teammates
I'm your worst nightmare, you're like a whack MC's dream date
A walking target, plus an awful artist, what you talk is often fucking garbage
The public regrets the fact they have to hear your music
What you call spittin' looks more like involuntary droolin'
Say I'm stupid for entertainin' rumors but I heard you give your favorite producer head in trade for his creative juices
We makin' music, just tryna put the fun back in
Turntablism, lyricism, ain't no gun packin'
It's hard to swallow, even my simple sing(?)
So bitin's not recommended by 9 out of 10 dentists
I step on snakes any yes I make a mess on tape cassettes with
My brother, ain't no other quite like my mellow, my man
So Abilities, lemme hear you make some funky music with your hands
Wall lights(?), solo, drums and vocals
Guaranteed to put your attention span in a choke-hold
PEACE
We just representin' for the hip-hoppers world-wide, MC's, DJ's, b-boys, raff-writers, everybody in the house
Yeah, Blueprint in the house, uh-huh
Daylight in the house, uh-huh
E-Wok in the house, yeah
Mr. Dibbs in the house, uh-huh
X-Cal in the house, uh
Abomination's in the house, uh
Headshot's in the house, yeah
Rhymesayers and we out, PEACE