Black Spasmodic Songtext / Lyric

Yo, y'all ready?

Yo, Phife, you ready?

Cons, you got that part right?

I dunno but it don't matter who choose to set it off

ATCQ, no doubt my niggas is boss

Little half-ass rappers, y'all pissin' me off

Time to dead 'em all off, yo, no matter the cause



(Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre

(Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar

(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger

(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers

(Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre

(Spasmodic) Who kept up a buzz the whole calendar

(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger

(Spasmodic) Now look what he does to any challenger






Now who want it with the Trini gladiator?

The finger to you haters, you biters not innovators

I take zero for granted, I honors my gift

Champion pen game, plus I'm freestyle equipped

You clowns be bum sauce, speak my name, it's curtains

Hamdulillāh my crew's back to workin'

Trash rap the dead pussy, kill the turban

Fuck boys, sit down, shit can only get worsen

How do you touch mic with flows uncertain?

Speak game tribal, that flow ain't workin'

Folks doin' items, dem vex and cursin'

Fuck made me wanna see these niggas in person

Third song in, muthafuckas dispersin'

Only to realize Gana loose in the buildin'

Big tune this for man, woman and children

Back on my bullshit, Busta bust then we kill them



(Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre

(Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar

(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger

(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers



My nigga's spirit be talkin' to me, let me explain

Not through evil mediums, tarot cards or Ouija games

But through mixing chords and boards and even drum machines

He be saying, "Nigga fuck awards, keep reppin' Queens

And don't be taking slack from these non-rapping niggas, man

That intellectual shit you spit, you better change your plan

Especially when you see them at the lobby of a label

And they don't seem able to outstretch they hands and admit they fans

You better flame 'em in the J's that they standing in

Ostracize they memory for not remembering

The articles reduce their body parts to particles

And dust the Dead Sea with their cremated molecules

I'm leaving, but nigga you still got the work to do

I expect the best from you, I'm watching from my heaven view

Don't disappoint me, make sure that they anoint me

As the blue ribbon pedigree, the best of show five-foot-three

Speak of the legacy for short people around the world

Napoleonic bionic people who cause the world to twirl

Rip every stage with grace, look right dead in they face

Live the Tribe principle of havin' impeccable taste

Enjoy that breath like that one was your last one left

If you don't believe me, Tip, there's truly life after death

So refer to the Biggie covers and shoutout my Trini brothers

And please check in on my mother," Malik Izaak, call me shorty



(Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre

(Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar

(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger

(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers

(Black)

(Spasmodic)