Sick

Lyrics

Cvees (ft. Probe DMS, Swave Sevah, and Ike P) ft. Stat Quo - "Sick" [Emcee(s): Probe DMS, Stat Quo, Swave Sevah, and Ike P] [Producer(s): Probe DMS] [Hook: All] It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick [Verse 1: Probe DMS] Yo, yo, I'll have 'em Shaking like a bowl of gelatin—shots are absolute As my adrenaline, a fat P be the emblem Turn the clip off or rip the flesh off your skeleton Fellas get jealous when they hear the tracks. I'll tell 'em that "I'm black." They ask me, "Where's my melanin?" I'll tell 'em, "Relax" Chickens, pigeons, pelicans, where you at? I hope you're in the back, clucking 'cause you're fucking stuck and You want to get out and start sucking. Who in the Hidouse? Probe in conjunction with some funk, flowing out Of function, blowing out the speakers in your trunk Leave you out to lunch, I'm jumping on your head, puncturing skin Thumping in the winter, entering spring, springing in- -to action, chopping down these niggas into fractions with this guill- -otine. These are one of the simple things that I do (True) It's hindering to them simpletons. What I'm delivering Will have them all shivering, sick with the flu [Hook: All] It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick [Verse 2: Stat Quo] Yeah, I'll rock with DMS and bust Brothers on PMS that come through. Winner: All-black acts. I'm so fresh, I'll take Cash, credits cards, and checks, muhfucka. Hah Stat that money boy, Quo the nigga, biatch! Smack from Atlanta on the 1-2-5th. I'll hold Them clips 'cause I'm so sick (He's so sick) Don't like me? You could suck my dick. I give A fuck if you're feeling my flow. I'ma eat, trick Mainstream or street shit, it don't matter (Now that's sick) You better kill that chatter. You on your high horse Think you're all safe, but we got them ladders and ride Away. Y'all are scary—ain't no fearing The Beast. Your bakery and crew lay sweet. Now when The Stat rock, I'll fill up seats, sick with heat Leave bruise, scar 'cause I'm sick on beats Come on [Hook: All] It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick [Verse 3: Swave Sevah] Forever drop- -ping gems. From now on, it's not called flow. It's Called phlegm 'cause I'll be spitting nasty shit (Ewww) Like I had a bad chest cold. Flammable mucous Exposed to flame-filled streets—retreat before it explodes I'm here to test those, expertise of the veteran Cats and tap a chin that ain't never been tapped (Who want it?) Ride a track that ain't never been rode, hold a mic That never been held, tell a tale that never been told Ceremonial Victorians—that means we're winning this Cvees, Constant Victories, Crazy Venemous Calm but Vigorous, Charm your Villages with Sharp lines and fine penmanship, drop bombs continuous I'm sick with it, another hip hop junkie With flows contaminated like the Outbreak monkey My words are like germs, and, once read from the pages Emcees gather around, hoping my style was contagious [Hook: All] It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick [Verse 4: Ike P] Yo, Ike P is a bizarre god, far beyond the norm The art form leaves you needing an MRI Everywhere I go, I see dark skies, hear hearts cry The shots pop you out my block that's dropped tough guys Streetwise, damn near raised in the slums, pitching for crumbs With niggas I run, all they know is grams and guns (MACs) Understand where this man is from—(Where?)—Harlem, U-S- -A, where Achmed in the store got two-way cage No, I don't own a two-way pager, cellular phone But the way I communicate will swell up your dome Very brave, cave chest, break bones. While you rolling the wheels Of chrome, I'm on my heels, running in homes (Give me that) With the bats and the silver tape on the roll. Shit, that's the ac- -tion you take when adversity's taking its toll Born with a goon soul to my tombstone. On this Earth Seeking my purpose, spitting the sickest murderous verses [Hook: All] It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick. I need some of that grimy shit It's so sick