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Hard times spreading just like the flu,
Watch out homeboy, don’t let it catch you.
All we want in this life is peace, prosperity and a little paper.
My radio’s loud like a fire alarm:
The floor vibrates, the walls cave in,
The bass makes my eardrums seem thin.
Def sounds in my ride, yes the front and back…
You would think it was a party, not a Cadillac!
You can do all them push-ups to pump up your chest,
I got a 12 gauge Mossberg to pump up your chest,
Have you gasping for air after that shell hit your vest.
Fear me like you fear God, ‘cause I bring death.
38-24-37…
You and me, hun, we’re a match made in heaven.
I like to kiss ya where some brothers won’t…
I like to tell ya things some brothers don’t.
We were beginners in the hood as 5 Percenters,
But somethin’ must’ve got in us, cause all of us turned to sinners.
Fuck a stray bullet, I take aim when the gun draws,
For everlasting fame, I will maim those who change the gun laws.
Cause post-traumatic stress disorder, ask any vet I’ve worked with.
My purpose? Catching bodies like safety nets at the circus.
How far must you go to gain respect? Um…
Well, it’s kind of simple: just remain your own.
Or you’ll be crazy sad and alone.
I want a girl with extensions in her hair,
Bamboo earrings, at least two pair,
A Fendi bag and a bad attitude,
That’s all I need to get me in a good mood.
She can walk with a switch and talk with street slang,
I love it when a woman ain’t scared to do her thing.
Some seek fame cause they need validation,
Some say hating is confused admiration.
Why’s my name the Large Professor?
Cause I milked your cow, in other words I hit your heifer.
I’m no slave to a rhythm, I whip it,
Then I take its name and change its religion,
Then I chop the foot off the fuckin’ beat
For trying to escape the track, now it’s obsolete.
If rhyme is a crime, my mic is my co-defendant.
It’s a thin line between paper and hate,
Friends and snakes, nine millis and thirty-eights,
Hell or the pearly gates…I was destined to come,
Predicted, blame God, He blew breath in my lungs.
Sunny days wouldn’t be special…if it wasn’t for rain.
Joy wouldn’t feel so good…if it wasn’t for pain.
Death gotta be easy, ‘cause life is hard,
It’ll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred.
The D’s for doin it all of the time.
M is for the rhymes, that are all mine,
C’s for cool, cool as can be,
And why you wear those glasses? So I can see!
So concisely, musically we are the herb
So sit back and light me.
Inhale…
My style’s kinda fat, reminiscent of a whale.
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
Me and Frosted went to get a drink.
But she ordered somethin’ bugged, and I ain’t know what to think.
She ordered potassium, calcium,
Carbohydrate, scotch with sodium.
She took me to her crib, threw me on the couch…
I woke up the next morning with a spoon in my mouth.
Back in the days when I was a teenager,
Before I had status, and before I had a pager,
You could find The Abstract, listening to hip-hop,
My pops used to say it reminded him of be-bop.
I said, ‘Well daddy don’t you know that things go in cycles.
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin’ like Michael.
It’s all expected, things are for the lookin’,
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin’.
Shorty, let me tell you about my only vice:
It has to do with lots of lovin’, and it ain’t nuttin’ nice.
A prejudiced man is of a devil mentality.
These are words of a wise man, wisdom;
Take a taste and erase the racism.
For what it’s worth, I’ve been a hip-hopper from birth.
Try to disrespect, and get your ass played up like a Smurf.
I like ‘em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian.
Havin’ cash is highly addictive, especially when you’re used to havin’ money to live with.
Life is a gamble, we scramble for money,
I might crack a smile, but ain’t a damn thing funny.
What’s poppin? My gun on ya head, nigga.
What’s crackin? The bones in ya head, nigga.
What’s really good? Nothin but the doe.
What’s really hood? You already know.
When the slugs penetrate, you feel a burning sensation,
Gettin’ closer to God in a tight situation.
The world is kinda cold and the rhythm is my blanket.
When worse comes to worst, my peoples come first.
Try to react, and get them motherfucking feelings hurt.
My crew’s all about loot.
Fuck looking cute,
I’m strictly Timb boots and Army-certified suits.
Puffin L’s, laid back, enjoying the smell,
In the Bridge, getting down…it ain’t hard to tell.
From the bottom of my heart, that’s where the love starts:
The love for breakdancing, my love for the art.
And with this love, I do hip-hop from the soul,
A real MC, who never sweats how many copies are sold.
Yeah, I want to go gold, platinum, et ceteras,
But why put out some wackness when no one will respect ya?
I’m staying true, nuff respect to those that paved the way,
From Bambaata down to Shah (that be my DJ).
Without my peeps, I dont know how the hell I’d make it, word…
Sometimes I feel that my career is headed for the curb.
One love for the lendin’ hand and givin’ all your help,
Believing in me when I didn’t believe in my own self.
The Abstract, with whom I’m always making rugged tunes,
Kid Hood, restin’ in heaven, I hope to see you soon.
Question: Why is that MC’s be wack
And major labels wanna sign that crap?
A-yo…funk that!
Your whole appearance is a lie and it could never be true.
And if you really loved yourself, then you would try and be you.
I like ‘em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian.
Name is Phife Dawg from the Zulu Nation.
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue.
It’s not like honey dip would wanna get with me,
But just in case I own more condoms than TLC.
Shorty thought she subtle but she really was blatant…
When she shook her thing and violated,
Now these wolf-like thoughts are formulated.
The thing that men and women need to do is stick together,
Progressions can’t be made if we’re separate forever.
Serve the curves, I never swerve I’m superb;
Every word you heard played tricks on your nerves.
I’m a beast on the microphone, a night stalker,
A killing machine, a savage street talker,
Jason with an axe, but I put it on wax
To eradicate the suckers who thought I had relaxed.
The greatest lesson ever learned has yet to be taught.
I know I’d be the man if I cold yanked the plug on R&B…but I can’t, and that’s bugged.
Money is the key to end all your woes,
Your ups, your downs, your highs, and your lows.
Won’t you tell me last time love bought your clothes?