(*Begins with piano*)
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
[Buddy Slim]
I declare war
The joy becomes a rappifyin weapon
If you step in
When your draws get mobbed behind enemy lines
You become a sittin duck but fuck
I ain`t givin em livin trifle
The pen and pad becomes a 12 gauge rifle
This is no laughing matter
Step into this you step in a minefield
Your body`s scattered
You people drop pickin up the pieces
But only corny niggas
The attack from a brotha like the Buddy never ceases
Without a moment of silence the violence thickens
So if you ain`t got it together you slim pickings
Shorts and prisoners are never taken
If you fakin all the booty competition
I`m a bag fuck a white flag
Get down and dirty like a brotha in the trench
Leave a nigga dead and stinkin as he wonders what his stench is
I`m bustin clip after clip
My artillery will funk on the punk
When ya wanna test my shit
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
[Breezly Brewin]
Tell it to hell is it
I feel my brain swell like meningitis
With the slightest mind motion
Givin me the notion
That I got it bad
I think I got a brain tumor
Brain rumor
Such a pain to analyze the strain and then understand it
The seed was planted
That shit is ill but still
The thought I`m lovin got the dome growin
With the biscuit in the oven
Shovin nothin but the nutrients
My diet to support me
A whiff of the spliff
A guzzle of the forty to inspire fire thought
To the mic there was marriage
Causin competition
Verbal miscarriage of the mental fetus
Greet us with the rugged rhythm then I`m showin
I think I feel my water breakin thus I`m flowin
Timin my contractions
Concentratin on my breathin
Heavin curses at the father he has the funk
Cuz if I flunk my shit ain`t livin
Pushin givin every bit of what I`m worth
And as the Brewin drops the lyrical
The miracle of birth
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
[Buddy Slim]
I be the sick ass brotha, nasty ass nigga
A phony motherfucker grave digga
I know this sounds rough
But I had enough to funk
So part of me the heart of me
So if you corny nigga
It`s like cloggin up my artery
You cuttin circulation
So now it`s do or die
While niggas always try to test my shit
Only preservation of the funk is why I kick this
As I give a simple diagnosis of the sickness
[Breezly Brewin]
Now upon the fruits of my labor
Your ear feasts
The beast from within
It`s some shit ain`t it
The picture painted
From the use of a noun and a verb might disturb
We make you say, Damn that nigga`s crazy
Well if we crazed, deranged well then we fittin
If you say the world`s a normal place
Who the fuck you kiddin?
Your mind`s blind if you say you haven`t seen this
As I walk the fine line between insanity and genius
[Interlude: *horns and scratches*]
(*Fades out with piano*)
