Lyrics

[Intro - L.] This shit Hit me off! Shit, dafuq man [Vocal Sample 1] Yeah, for those who don't know, word up Hilltop, all day everyday, ya'mean? F.A.G.C [Vocal Sample 1] L-Fly, J-Funk, my man Black Spade keep it up [Verse 1 - L. Fly] Okay, now who this MC is crossing niggas up like Jesus Blowing through crews like breezes The Fahrenheit teases the nose of the hoes that sweat me The microphone is sparked when you let me Loops on the instrumental, some find it detrimental To even fuck with the L. because I'm way too mental For that average shoot 'em up bang-bang murder type of shit That's when I like to get, deep in my trick bag, so I can zig-zag on your crew's ass You get in who's ass? MC's, run for cover when this lyrical fall out When L. got the mic and convinced to go all out On all MC's that lack skills and talent You niggas couldn't serve me because your efforts wasn't gallant You way past this, so take ya last glimpse Of life as you know it cause you in past tense My style sets the precedent, and those that testin' it Will get crushed in my path of dead presidents Ya whole flow needs to be refined So why don't you back off mine And relax ya mind [Hook] Vocal Sample 2 [Gwen McCrae, Funky Sensation]: Take your time, relax your mind Vocal Sample 1 [BDP, My Philosphy]: (Murder) Let us get back to what we call Hip-Hop 4x [Verse 2 - L. Fly] Be on the lookout for a brother last seen in music He's got a deadly rhyme and ain't afraid to use it Proceed with caution, or you'll get lost in The message and the lyrics, that he's been tossin' This brother got skills to break wills of any lesser man Yo Russel Simmons couldn't even make a deafer jam Yo get that mic up kid, ayo you know who next I'm not commercial but I'm freakin' on a solo flex Here comes the sure-shot, skills is what the boy got Step into the L. don't step in that because I toy not Doin' somethin' funky at the drop of my hat Not the type to react with a knife or a gat I'm droppin' rhymes feeble minds couldn't comprehend I ain't from Compton and I ain't down with stompin' men I like to crush MC's, mind, body and spirit Quench a niggas thirst wit this 40oz of lyrics And it don't stop [Hook - L. talking in background] [Verse 3 - J. Funk] I got you pumped like gas, you don't know the half Of the shit I kick and now your girls on wit Cause I'm milky, smooth like butter or chocolate You got split styles fat like tits Wit the boom from Uzi's and bang from the 9 when I rhyme Whores call me father like Don or just Papa Known as the MC stoppa, niggas can't see me, so niggas wanna be me Like Jordan, check out the gear that I'm sportin' Jeans be saggin', tongues be braggin' Funky-ave in '95 for the mental Shut the fuck up and don't say shit, like an instrumental Then you'll, know who stealed the show It's the freestyle fanatic wit the wicked ass flow Surprise, now guess the hell what now whore I'm peekin' I take yo' ass out like the weekend Relax ya mind [Hook - L. talking in background] [Vocal Sample 1 throughout]