Casualties of a crazy bitch Yo it's times like this I blaze a spliff sit back reminisce on some crazy shit I remember this bitch man mental as hell
mind drastically, fantastically It has to be, automatically Check it out, you better work it out, dreams to another 'bout My techniques, strategies, abilities Will leave cordless mics
But Show gets ill with his street skills I put raps on tracks that's so real that my peeps feel I got to make it, blues ain't what I choose Can't stand
need to be drunk forever, the liquor is rootin me on I turn tables fast as Jam Master Jay do I'm N.W.A., I choke hoes like Dre If you could choose between
what I'ma do is separate the false from the truest You've amassed nothing trying to ball like U Mass So phenomenal with mics I don't like myself Sadomasochist
now let me start stunnin' Blue and yellow diamonds on teeth, baby I'm bubblin' Up like crack, Luck strike back Wreckin' all this mics got my money on
Get off my elevator (Security will escort you out the building) Get off my elevator (That woman is very nosey) I choose my subjects, personal man, that
On a rainy dark early morn A lethal legacy was born Ask any rapper around Bout the fuckin' mics I left torn But the game won't give me all my P's And
' two techs, camoflauged gear from toe to neck Niggas don't know when niggas can sleep on my lyical capacity That's when I swoop 'em like turbulence Bust on mics
young fiending for mics, Dreaming of heights that I would be reaching despite, No one would put me on, or even play me at that, So earned my dues ganking mics
headed for the head Your rhymes are whack your style is proof that the brain corrosion is fuckin with your chosen flows, I'm nice with mics My hands'
Psycho Realm, P.O.D. Boo-Yah Tribe, what? What? My soul is payable on death, the flow I'm layin' here is deaf Mics come with a Teflon vest, my words wreck
it, try to get back mo' Uh-uh not me, I refuse to lose You either got it or you don't, and I refuse to choose And candy blue's I cruise, cause if I snooze
come on Break it down now, Mr. DJ Would you play ah, yo, yo, yo Hey yo, Mr DJ would you please flip the beat on I got so much to say I need two mics
becomin jedi's Watch the dread fry, submerge it from tripes Born from a virgin, with a eye in her back So where you at -- when I choose to chew through
a body, then carry a shotie The maestro rips the psycho shit Brain like a microchip, and i'ma excite you with The smoother rhythm, sendin mad crews to prison Who choose
come a long way from the younger days When I used to look up curse words in my dictionary If life's a game, gotta choose a side to play If I gotta pick
underdeveloped pre-school style on a field trip Now bite your tongue, this is how the mic gets done A whole tree to pick some fruit from, man, You had to choose
