Annoyed

Lyrics

Cvees (ft. Probe DMS, Swave Sevah, and Ike P) - "Annoyed" [Emcee(s): Probe DMS, Swave Sevah, and Ike P] [Producer(s): Probe DMS] [Intro: Cvees] Introducing (the magnificent) Cvees (Cvees) Cvees (Cvees) Cvees (Cvees). Yes, new hip hop (No doubt), new hip hop. Introducing Cvees (Cvees) Cvees (Cvees). Yeah (Cvees). Yeah. 1997 [Verse 1: Probe DMS] Yo, reporting on the status, reporting the facts. I'm out There like stratosphere. I like my mic ap- -paratus clear. When I speak, I'll teach lessons And, during sessions, I'll preach like an emcee reverend And leach onto a beat, getting props from my brethren I'll breach your mental world and make fake emcees snore Before reciting their next Calliope, they think twice On the low, they have no variety light Condemn music society (Nice) like propriety (Life) Is what I'll take soon as it start to inflate Your auditory senses. Relentless is how the words Speed to hit your face to make your third eye bleed Yo, I heard your plea, and, nigga, you guilty. I should Lock you up and throw away the key for your filthy Mouth. I'm down south with all music I hate So sit back and contemplate on my demonstration tape [Hook: Cvees] Yo, I'm seeking to destroy, I'm annoyed by the wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game (Yo) (We're seeking to destroy). I'm annoyed by these wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game Yo, I'm seeking to destroy, I'm annoyed by these wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game (Yeah) (Ayyo, we're seeking to destroy). Yes, I'm annoyed by these wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game [Verse 2: Swave Sevah] Lyrically, when I explain all the anger that I contain The explanation in my brain gives you excruciating pains Brain storms and no thoughts remain. Speak of my heater Which like a scorching flame, and then laugh at the loss you gain I'll be the boss of things when it comes to mic-cuffing Calling your bluffing, reducing emcees down to nothing Niggas that started something now a victim of the artist sudden I'm stable but, still, I'm able to get a party jumping And I ain't hardly fronting—I'm getting sick of it now All these heads getting record deals with ignorant sound, transporting Keys and pulling triggers, getting ridiculous now Need to be tossed, so we can step forth with original styles The strange force you feel when coming to rap Colossus—hush I ain't with that chitchat—you'll get pimp-smacked unconscious Blowing up spots like missile launchers, twisting up ganja Get stoned out my mind. Fuck stalking, nigga, I'll haunt ya I'm described as the highest of the high with the reddest eyes A god is never shy in a fro—I'll spend on dyes, and you're A drop-dead fly. Turn heads when they be treading by While they're sporting Jordaches, DKNY. But that's Beside the point. I can't forget to let you know the half. You'll feel The blast like this bitch-ass. I went to school and ain't passed I'll reach fast to outlast any competitor Battle anybody, anytime, anyplace, etcetera Commits to shredding ya. Ain't shit that you could do to me I'll walk to get in tight in community with immunity Your petty styles are losing me endlessly. I can't begin To take your ass seriously in this rap industry, but if You really want to try me, then you could find me in New York 35 West 124th, equipped with new thoughts That developed in my mind after puffing blunts and Newports And niggas ready to rhyme to devour whoever you brought [Hook: Cvees] Yo, seeking to destroy, I'm annoyed by these wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game (Yeah) (We're seeking to destroy). We're annoyed by the wack, lame Rappers—they're just toys that's employed by this rap game [Verse 3: Ike P] Yes, seeing through you with My yellow eyes, fellow allies decentralize. After We floor them, chill with decorum 'cause they decided to try Stepping to the ones, we're united, making 'em cry Mistaking you for an emcee I thought was kicking it fly It needs to be divided between the ones that we comply And the few that are wack that don't apply from laws they derive That's guilted with the Prada products—lost, you have no proper guidance Delete you across the guidelines, minus those who don't follow mine The rhymes be cryptic towards your mind from neglect-e-ful lines Record could cause a climb, too nasty, edified at times Control the time of rappers if I'm Kronos. Can't even freeze My movement with your photos—too mobile to hold up Intolerable flows that you're showing will make me regurgitate We're urgent to fakes at shows that we blow up. Artistic like A graff writer doing throw-ups with a Krylon. With My right arm, I'll grab the pen and use it as my firearm Metaphysical dialogue metaphors to a god Only to be praised by the crews that love the style of this art Emerging from cars, the mirrors. I proceed, deletes your whole drama- -cracy lyrically when it's stopping suckers properly Provoke mediocrity, force them to step forth when they try it Stopping their augmented challenge, sap you all of gallant chances Faggot your stance is. Brother, a Joshua smothers your chances Not heaven-sent, the writing skills naturally evident Handing 'em medicine. What? [Outro: Cvees] You wack mother..., punk-ass... Bring the noise