YoungBlack |
11-21-03 10:03 AM |
Fire on the mic (tell me wat ya'll think)
I'm the OZ walkin down the yellow brick road, the 215, PHI, man ya'll don't know, Young Black, and I'm back, to make a statement, blow these cats off the map, man i've been waitin, glove like dat Payton man, see the daytons, call me the maintenance man cuz i hit em' with them tools, tryna stay cool and obey the rules, school boy, i keep the hammer in pocket, time to lock it, franchise like the Huston Rockets, keep the checks comin like Johnnie Chochren, the flows all hotness, to hot to hold man ya'll can't stop dis, ya too sweet cuzz ya melt like chocolate, in the streets we pop dis, over seas, blowin trees, tryna make a couple a gees, while i proceed in street, clap, another soul lost, keep fuckin wit the young one get ya folks toss, man ya'll extras, ya name should be condiments, i'm the real deal you'll see it when i'm stompin in, I play fools like monopoly, I come thru like the crusher, ain't no stoppin me, can't see the kid, gotta wear the specs like Harry Potter in his oddessy, but i forsee things clear, i'm da future of the prophecy, neva been to sesame street, but i pack a big bird, and when i aim playboy, know my bullets won't curve, ya heard, Plus i keep the tek-nine in da pouch, cuz nigga i can get mean like Oscar the Grouch, you slow learner, while you hooked on phonics, i be hooked on my burner, Legends are mad with da last name Turner, cuz man we be da truth like Sojourner....
Holla at da kid
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