First Words Worse Songtext / Lyric

The truth is y'all haters had to lie to do it

I am loose like a loop is with a loop chick grindin' to it

Old school like colt 45, lunch lines and pumas

You heard I blaze hoop? I denied the rumors

Your mic don't sound nice, you shouldn't even check 1, 2

I disrespect who come through, my intellect is kung-fu

In the midst of the women, that miss the man

The new millennium bush baby, with a mystic plan

Digi download, sound scan exam, top ten choice

You wanna speak out? My label keeps getting my invoice

If I sound sarcastic, I meant to do it

Wack emcee's breath stink, you need a mint



Revenge of the first

Rap, hip-hop, underground, mainstream

Stop lick a shot, pop, hit the charts

Aim for the top, and still get down when we drop

X2






I got different flows for different shows

They don't know the half, I am different on a ho

I use a knife to cut clad, but if the fights not ending

These old school slugs can get ya life suspended

Your not safe with the ninjas hatred agenda

Fix ya shape up (go head), put your face in a blender

There's no such thing as friendly contradiction

My competition loses consciousness of composition

While I am on the toilet with an L

My shit is smokin', I got grown folks laughin'

They think the kids jokin'

But I won't dumb it down, to double my dollars

I'd rather piss on your lawn, then leave a puddle in my boxers

Get knocked out before round ones begun

Just for gettin' smart with me, and you sound dumb

Melon head coward motherfuck your honeydew crew that's lookin'

No need to fight you fool, my cough is woopin'



Revenge of the words

Rap, hip-hop, underground, mainstream

Stop lick a shot, pop, hit the charts

Aim for the top, and still get down when we drop

X2



When I rap you hear spaceships, martians, lasers, targets

I face fuck ya bitch squad, lace anal compartments

Comic books, bibles, bar-codes, orphans

This little tarana go spit livin' distorted

This wanna live in the clearing of sins fortress

Brooklynites babble on, crass, blast portraits

Meanwhile back in the box cutter for tongue talk micro

Cause I am awesome plus dumb bop

Young cop rookie the pj beat nerve rack tension

City of stress depressed words slap brethren

45 dust dirty dumb shit

Analog function punctured run bitch covered

The cloud of defeat complete hovers

Juxie slow burn, slow mo, flow colors

Rookie no run, just son suck something

El product album of raw saw destruction



Revenge of the words

Rap, hip-hop, underground, mainstream

Stop lick a shot, pop, hit the charts

Aim for the top, and still get down when we drop

X2



And this verse is the soundtrack to sickness

I give it to all y'all who think you can't get it