Money & Food {MF}

Lyrics

[Emcee(s): Rodan] [Producer(s): Just Blaze (Original Instrumental from Jay-Z - "Public Service Announcement")] [Intro: Rodan] Coulda' sworn I told these cocksucking pieces of shit before Motherfuckers is ADB ADBS motherfuckers can't do the math They call me King Sudoku, Young Lord Prometheus, always got that fire I told these son of a bitches before, puss and bit Allow me to reintroduce myself, cocksucker [Verse: Rodan] They call me Full-Clip Ro', flip dough, orbit eclipse elliptical Jaguar claw, apocalypto. Y'all need to quit it Just admit it: most committed, best that ever did it In the know like Bo, Aslan, Chronicles like Riddick I'm ruthless, fool, you's a toothless dude. Hit you with a Good combination like music and food, stomp you out With some exclusive shoes, hold up my watch Shit's a problem. Watch it transform like a Rubik's Cube Original, most pure, perfect organism, hold up my pinky ring My pinky ring shines like the whole solar system No matter how much steel you can lift off your chest You can't stop no steel when it rip through your flesh It peels off the vest, skills off the texts, put it into wills Put it into coffins, mold it into crack, peace-pipes Put it to rest. We're getting mills, so, God, be blessed Cyphers filled big, we the best like: Riding with the nine in the dash, I'm here to refine the craft Then strip the intellectual ass-bets out the art form Frowned-upon, fraggot-ass niggas, y'all gotta Clown just to get on, so I'm rhyming, flying over your Motherfucking head—that's the style I'm on. Intellectual Matters, big-word status, hurt with the automatic Apparatus, ain't shy about flipping a bird And using your chicken heads for target practice like Going 50 through Block or battling Kimbo Slice In callisthenic fights or taking up phonetic flight Hold up my wrist, my wrist look like a bunch of paramedic lights Sounds of rain wash, throw dreams down the drain The ounce of prevention now worth a pound of pain At least a pound of 'caine. Came down, broke, the whole Town insane, hood rats knocked up, baby daddies Locked up, can't put the guns down, so they're oxed up Soap-and-socked up. Mm, boom! Cocksucker, where my Plate at? Bitch, pass me a hot cup. Blood clots Fucked so long as my watch stay rocked up And spawn the deepest fan base, a bunch of street masons Advance like pawns and swarmed in with secret handshakes