Prepare for the Buddha Monk

Lyrics

[Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard] Get prepared for the Buddha Monk You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk Ladies and gentlemen.. [Intro: Ol' Dirty Bastard] Yo, turn this shit up, man Turn the mics open.. turn the mic up, man I want.. I want the mic.. I want the mic to shake The mic don't even sound good at all Man, what's up with that shit? Each one of these niggas try to say a rhyme They don't wanna work through that shit KnawI'msayin? Niggas gotta learn how to feel that shit.. If you're feelin with me, then you're dealin with filth If you can barely hear it then you need to go [Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard & 12 O'Clock] Get prepared for the Buddha Monk You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk Get prepared for the Buddha Monk You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk Ladies and gentlemen.. It's a Buddha Monk show Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low It's a Buddha Monk show Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low [Verse 1: Babyface Fensta] Josie whales tales from a High Plains Drifter Bounty Killer, most wanted villain Dead or alive, to survive we strive off gun smoke I toke the Colt .45 Desert Eagle rips through cerebral tissue The issue, gunslinging, drug dealing Four wheeling, appealing chicks Up jumps the bullshit and it's a hit A tale of two hoes, songs about clothes Need to be thrown out your fucking window Niggas loving hoes licking their toes I suppose you high from the candy for the nose Niggas is a joke, I take a toke of the lye And all the batty boys go boom bye bye [Hook: 12 O'Clock] It's a Buddha Monk show Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low [Verse 2: Chilli Black] Simply fucked up, these niggas spreadin rumors and get touched up By M3-8-0, Musa on the low Get you high with fly style, rugged profile With chuckers, you know its time for some pound to go Now suckers, get their fucking neck broke in my book Strike, if you don't want to get hype then stay put Bop shit like like liquid lips, spit like Mac's spit Burning in whips, sipping and dip cops and shit The God can't slip, I hold the weight above my shoulders Fake toasters get bust back and still in the holster [Verse 3: Lee-Major] Don't play this shit backwards, it goes "MC's lack this" Deep in the corridors of the ghettos where I yap this Heads try to plot on this, kidnap just like slaves, du' Doggy, he's Wu, he's the brand new craze Young child misbehave on brand new styles that blazed Her daddy was [?] mac back in his earlier days I had badder days, that was better days and still pays Still got laid, rolling on through these street trades Each corner is equality, baby, do you follow me? Digging in the Crates to write this sawed off biography While your girl be hard, gosh in me, partially, properly 'Cause you know the Gods be, I be new born to this, see? My mom's giving me a kiss and the first whiff for me to live off this And your shit too, my god's just evil [?] my rhymes will be finding you Black will be designed you, dig into my chronicle So I can unbandage you, they let you see what they want you to But things is right in front of you [Break: Ol' Dirty Bastard] Ladies and gentlemen... [Verse 4: Buddha Monk] Yes, we leave your brain demented, these god-bodies invented A skill of Resident Evil with no follow-up sequels My peoples, don't let the Devil mislead you and beat you Wicked minds they feed through, saying it here for the people It's unbelievable, weak minds they retrieve through Scheming for the cream, rejoice in the Land of the Dreams Slide the poison in the weak germs, black babies turn to earthworms In holocaust you must learn to speak your Devil terms Your mind is tapped like forgery and everything you say is watery What you ought to do genius is stop karma like Twelve Monkeys [Hook] It's a Buddha Monk show Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low It's a Buddha Monk show Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low [Verse 5: Shorty Shitstain] I be the rap head and the mic's my pipe I'm about to get everybody high tonight You ain't had no good shit like this since '95 My Cuffie tribe is mad live straight from do or die And I be coming with the good shit, sounding like dope I know you smoke it, but you won't get high off this note Have you up, really up like cocaine, you thought you could reign But all you did was felt mad pain like diamonds You could say I'm the lady's best friend And when it come to making lyrics, I will represent Yo, climbing the charts like a cat I'm rolling with mad clips and gats, I can't be stopped Like this is Shitty City and my Zu rolls thick Flooding the country with massive hits [Verse 6: G-Note$] Yo, the pictures you painted and paragraphs is half-assed A hard task to accomplish I'm a full definition of skills being impressive One rhyme is selfish, and all its relatives Objective and goal, make an emcee concentrate You're frustrated, when you examined Vocals' moving forward, with left and right panning You're shooting tranquilizers, reach out as spiritual touch This Brooklyn warrior walks with stab wounds to the gut You picked up twenty yards in rushing, mensustrate, got hit Your backbone couldn't hold the weight, shit shift Like a burnt out clutch, position Twenty-two yard line, you're out of fuckin commission I'm fuckin up beats like Vodka from Finland Fatigue shit is green and Leprechauns walking round like they're all ready My shit is point blank period like a bitch bleeding heavy Spilling over the same pad, from a month before last [Verse 7: Drunken Dragon] This is lyrical insanity and mandatory we bust All you so-called crazy niggas still get touched Son I thought you had shit locked down, look around Manchuz took control of your stereo sound Plus the crown for the new found kings of this rap thing Chariots swing like Lo Han's, son no man could take what I start I keep the best for self, to get the poor part Plus the boot like Columbus, STD spread like fungus Touch hundreds, thousands, more than million I roll with four billions Our way of light shines through darkness, I spark this track like lye Pop dukes was a Gemini, what's your sign?