War’s extremely serious and it saddens me.
Masta Killa, “Assassination Day,” from Ghostface Killah’s Ironman, 1995
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War’s extremely serious and it saddens me.
I’m a street genius with a unique penis,
Got fly chicks on my dick that don’t even speak English.
I’m surrounded by psychopathic little fellas,
Ghetto dwellas, with ammunition in their cellas,
And no remorse in their hearts
When the shit starts it don’t end…
Until somebody’s gone with the wind.
I got mouths to feed,
Unnecessary beef is more cows to breed.
Lyrically, I’m supposed to represent;
I’m not only the client, I’m the player president.
Who’s that peeking in my window?
Step to this and get shanked up,
I knocked out so many teeth, the tooth fairy went bankrupt.
You know it ain’t no stoppin’
All the doggs I’m droppin’
It’s Friday night, so everything is poppin.
What is the meaning of C.R.I.M.E.?
Is it Criminals Robbin’ Innocent Muthafuckaz Everytime?
Party’s over, tell the rest of the crew.
I throw raps that attack like the Japs on Pearl Harbor.
MC’s be out like bank robbers,
Fleeing the scene, to be a sole survivor;
DJ…the getaway driver.
Props is a true thug’s wife.
It’s like a cycle: niggas come home, some’ll go in,
Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again.
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable,
Guns salute life, rapidly, that’s the ritual.
Won’t cha…picture life as my wife, just think:
Full length mink, fat X and O links,
Bracelets to match, conversation was all that,
Showed you the safe combinations and all that.
Guess you could say you’s the one I trusted…
Who would ever think that you would spread like mustard?
I judge wisely…as if nothin ever surprise me,
Loungin, between two pillars of ivory.
I’m lively, my dome piece is like buildin stones in Greece.
My poems are deep, from ancient thrones I speak.
Like my man Muhammad from Afghanistan:
Grew up in Iran, the nigga runs a neighborhood newsstand.
A wild Middle Eastern…bomb specialist,
Initiated at eleven to be a terrorist.
He set bombs in bottles of champagne
And when niggaz popped the cork, niggaz lost half they brains.
Spam ain’t the move it’s imitation ham.
Ham is pork, and the pork is foul.
Kinda like a pig and that ain’t my style.
Money…really wasn’t part of the rap.
Paid…was havin’ people start to clap.
I’m on some tax-free shit by any means,
Whether bound to hit scheme or some counterfeit C.R.E.A.M.
Some girls barely speak, but always askin’ for a dollar.
Lyrics are weak, like clock radio speakers.
Too many MC’s take that word ‘emcee’ lightly;
They can’t Move a Crowd, not even slightly.
I got styles sick as hell, sicker than sickle cell anemia,
Slaughter your circulatory like leukemia.
I’m your Mr., you my Mrs. with hugs and kisses,
Valentine cards and birthday wishes?
Please…be on another level of planning, of understanding
The bond between man and woman and child.
The highest elevation, cause we above
All that romance crap, just show your love.
I wanna lie to you sometimes…but I can’t.
I wanna tell you that it’s all good…but it ain’t.
Mental energy from within keeps me higher,
Than anything rolled and set on fire
If you for real then you know the deal,
I do or die, and I never ran, never will.
From city to city, coast to coast,
Friday night is the night they like to party the most.
If imitation is the greatest form of flattery,
Punk, don’t flatter me.
I come strong, I make knowledge born,
I flip the script and rock on
From P.M. past to fucking Dawn.
There comes a time in every man’s life when he’s gotta handle up on his own.
Can’t depend on friends to help you in a squeeze,
Please…they got problems of their own.
I call my brother ‘Sun’ cause he shine like one.
Where you been at?
You must’ve cut class.
If it ain’t me, another member of my crew will kick your ass.
Your simple words just don’t move me…
You’re minor, we major.
You all up in the game and don’t deserve to be a player.
I used to be in love with this bitch named E&J,
Don’t fuck with her no more, now I fuck with Tanqueray.
Tanqueray introduced me to her first cousin Gold,
Last name was English and the first name Olde.
Take these words home and think it through;
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you.
I got lots of love for my crew, that is;
No love for them other crews and rival kids.
All them out-of-town niggas know what time it is,
And if they don’t? They need to buy a watch, word up.
When the slugs penetrate, you feel a burning sensation,
Gettin closer to God in a tight situation.
I’m the one-man army Ason
I’ve never been tooken out…I keep MC’s lookin’ out.
I drop science like girls be dropping babies,
Enough to make a nigga go craaaaazy!
Be grateful for blessings,
Don’t ever change, keep your essence.
The power is in the people and politics we address.