Take a Chance

Lyrics

[Intro: Median] Like to make a toast (Aight!) To the gift of giving The pleasure of pleasing and receiving To the Sender Step up, on your mark... (Are you ready) [Verse 1: Median] Set, go and I'm gone, y'all, the Kev Brown's Low End Theory Sky high's are cloudy, slight chance of shower And buckle up, though at this speed with this power Nothing would survive at that instant I never understood the discipline 'Til I got a whiff of the turbulence Then I got a glimpse of the purpose No need to pen it, I murder it So independent, I co-defend Me and Phontigga, my confidant Run up in this gig like Columbine Only sparing kids and concubines, Mazel tov Moolies, another dine on his duty It's the rap phenomenon, yours truly, fuck Moody Caliente, but bipolar flows keep me ice cap cold Lamping in the snow, S-A-D Volvo, baby Never mind the curse the kid Kanye speak of It's safe full of features, the 8 will beam me to presentation The Bapes chasing for the king with the queen, still I swing Open communication, the gates cheating, undivine em Raise three vaginas from fetuses To Sasha, Malia ish [Interlude: Median & Phonte] (Another classic joint) Uh Baby, baby Median, let me take it from here, my nigga (Uh) New Tigallo, new Tigallo, new Tigallo [Verse 2: Phonte] Ayo They say, Murder She Wrote this Going off like Hiro-shima, spit fer-ocious And it's only a gamble if you don't know what you betting on Phonte always deliver like Cirrhoisis What I fear most is, these Carl Thomas niggas getting E-motional With the mere notion of some divide and conquer shit It leaves a mere potion, keep an ear to the street and what I hear most is "Authenticity dawg, you put a hurting on it Connected, Leave It All Behind, you put a hurting on it But what's the deal with you and 9th on a solo?" I say "We was homeboys before rap, nigga we working on it." But right now we got's to bring my mans back My J League brethren, true pion-eer Got a master plan that I just can't di-vulge But listening to your records, I reckon it won't be hard Kev Brown got the shit banging like a T.R 808, say my grace than be off Cause y'all go dumb, I go full retard Run that, this is the come back, beeotch! [Outro: Median] To my J-League crew, that's what's up To the whole Low Budget, that's what's up To my pops and my mother, that's what's up To my Blunt Dry brothers, that's what's up To my lady Each Beezy, that's what's up To my nigga D-Dug, that's what's up Amaya, Karma and Eden, that's what's up And you know we don't stop!