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Braniac dumb-dumbs, bust the scientifical,
Approach to the course and the force is centrifugal.
Can you find your way through the lyrics that be catchin’ ‘em?
Throw another rhyme across the room, they be fetchin’ ’em.
Telling my business to kids I don’t even know,
You’re like a daytime talk show…and that’s low.
Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns,
As I crush so-called Willies, thugs, and rapper-dons.
On the square…I’m not riffin’ like Andy Griffith,
Just fed up, goin’ head up, with competition.
When you say you love me, it doesn’t matter.
It goes into my head as just chit-chatter.
You may think it’s egotistical or just worry-free,
But what you say, I take none of it seriously.
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted,
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets.
Where were you the day hip-hop died?
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?
Fake MC’s – they always act hard
But won’t walk the streets without their bodyguards.
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Bullets heat-seekin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
I was always taught my do’s and don’ts:
For do’s I did, and for don’ts, I said I won’t.
Don’t you like when the winter’s gone,
And all of a sudden it starts gettin’ warm?
The trees and the grass start lookin’ fresh,
And the sun and sky be lookin’ their best…
Look: if I shoot you, I’m brainless,
But if you shoot me, then you’re famous.
What’s a nigga to do?
Ain’t nothin’ like hip-hop music;
You like it cause you choose it.
Most DJ’s won’t refuse it,
A lotta sucka MC’s misuse it.
Lemonade was a popular drink and it still is;
I get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis.
This country of ours was built on violence;
If your ass got in the way, you was killed in silence.
And these been the ways since back in the days:
Just ask the Indians or the African slaves.
I’d rather die enormous than live dormant.
If you can’t respect that, your whole perspective is wack.
Maybe you’ll love me when I fade to black.
I’m not a ‘Businessman,’ I’m a Business… man! Let me handle my business, damn!
Said she loved my necklace, started relaxin’.
Now that’s what the fuck I call a chain reaction!
We live to love, and we love to rock mics.
We speak in ghetto tongue, cause ghetto’s the life.
Stay far from timid.
Only make moves when your heart is in it.
And live the phrase ‘Sky’s the Limit.’
She claims she loves my mind, cause I’m so intelligent,
But fuck my mental…she was scheming on my mint.
You know, I used to be a player…flygirl-layer and a heartbreaker,
Lovemaker, backbreaker, but then I made a mistake.
Yes, I fell in love with this ill chick,
Sweatin’ me for money, my name and the dilsnick.
My homeboys told me drop her cause it would be to my benefit;
She used to say I’d better quit hanging with those derelicts.
Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk,
Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run,
Barack Obama ran so all the children could fly…
So, I’mma spread my wings, you can meet me in the sky.
Smoke good, fuck, eat, drink.
Drive nice car, wear all green mink.
I wouldn’ta came and said my name and run some weak shit,
Puttin’ blurbs and slurs and words that don’t fit
In a rhyme, why waste time on the microphone?
I take this more serious than just a poem.
Rockin’ party to party, backyard to yard,
I tear it up y’all…and bless the mic for the Gods.
Now, yo: Juice Crew’s the family, Slick Rick’s a friend of me
And Doug E. Fresh, Stet, KRS and Public Enemy.
Blahzay-blah, you know who you are:
The red, black and green, the sun, moon and star.
Knowledge of self is being taught here on after,
Peace in the name of I, Self, Lord and Master.
I come to teach and preach and reaching each
With the speech every leech I’ll impeach.
Drop science and build with math,
And the dumb, deaf and blind’ll feel the Wrath…of Kane.
Got the new Hummer in the summer when,
I was a newcomer then,
Drugs and Mac-10s, hugs from fake friends.
Make ends: they hate you,
Be broke: girls won’t date you.
Y’all niggaz ain’t rapping the same,
Fuck the flow, y’all jacking our slang,
I seen the same shit happen to Kane,
Three cuts in your eyebrow trying to wild out.
The game is ours, will never foul out,
Y’all just better hope we gracefully bow out.
Lyrically def and connecting, complete mic-wrecking…
No double-checking, vocals kill like weapons.
Never forget that I’m the one you thought wouldn’t make it.
I used to make money…now I just take it.
I know the price, know the risk, know the wrongs and the rights;
Still my blood flows ice…it’s just my life.
Talk…well I heard talk is cheap.
But like beauty, talk is just skin deep.
And when you lie and you talk a lot,
People tell you to step off a lot.
I’m outspoken; my language is broken into a slang,
But it’s just a dialect that I select when I hang.
Another day, another burial,
Got you wondering ’bout the day when they bury you.
Tear drops stain the Wally’s that you rockin’,
On the block, candles burn, guns poppin’.