Roll Call

Lyrics

Rodan ft. Kong, Kamackeris, and Gigan - "Roll Call" [Emcee(s): Rodan, Kong, Kamackeris, and Gigan] [Producer(s): X-Ray Da Mindbenda] [Intro (Overlapped with Hook): Kong] Niggas done fucked up. Monsta Island has returned. Kongcrete, the most hated. Word is bond, smack the blood out of them, Rodan. Pterodactyl. Let 'em know nigga, let 'em know. What? Uh [Hook (Overlapped with Intro): Samples] (x4) "I bring confusion like roll call" "To emcees so-called, hoes be like, 'Yup, I told y'all'" [Verse 1: Rodan] Ayyo Capital city nights, blood letters written in prison on a kite Put that crab out of sight, blow that scallywag like his first name Was Kid Dynamite. One day home, flirting with women that Stare, macking off effeminate flare, short skirts, fly Cinnamon hair. Grimy niggas got angst, rolling like Tanks through Tiananmen Square, elevate through power of diamond Industry virgins rub on your hymens. Faggot record label execs: This ain't 1955, and we ain't no Frankie Lymons Why do fools follow a lying critic? Bop your head Respect the rhyming misfit, brilliant timing, resilient shining Drop more jewels than the diamond district, designed and fitted Jury acquitted. Verbally eclectic, nervously Respected, purposely expected, anointed ever since I was cervically ejected. A-Alike criminal mind stay Surgically connected. Solo, one-man, going for self Or ride thick, hundred-man-deep, gangland-style, and me and A sidekick smack the C.O. at the off-duty party and Slide quick—that's a live clique—rocking heat under the seat Glide slick, sitting on a wide brick—blow for blow Celebrated tit-for-tatting, disguised gats wrapped in silk And satin, and bounce to the rap diplomatting, upper-room Chit-chatting over this and that and going platinum spitting Pig Latin, written in Manhattan, landmarked as a true believer Waiting just to send a thousand deaths to a deceiver Rugged like sports apparel, you're stuck in front of PlayStation with Pac- -Man fever. Monsta global, plan may destroy man Marching through the Terrordome like Babes in Toyland Industry domination with the goal to blow up like white boy bands On the battle site, seeking out the Sun like a satellite Reception trouble-free, bubble-screen TV, kick more Lyrics per verse than most niggas spit on a double CD [Verse 2: Kong] Hip hop be Kong. The Devil's Advocate assassin, assassin is K-Slash slashing Fasten seatbelt, third gear passing harassment Lyrical black bastard burn this plastic, dick Stupid asses for access after blasting Struck quickly, bust back. Cost your stupid ass A Buck Fifty plus tax, screaming, "Fuck That." You's a tough cat, non-sweet two-piece Chin full of meat, Kongcrete. Fuck a fork In a tussle, I'd rather go up in a duffle, have you Slow up on your hustle, toe-up under the trestle, scuffle Mouth muzzled, puzzled—should have spoke up. Woked up Coked up, roped up under the sofa. Me? A hoping ass, a broke ass. Instead of dope or smoking Hash, drink rum out of a broken glass. Crooked Tooth, knock-kneed, cop heat from swap meets, pop Heat to calmly drop deep at top speed Philosophic topics obnoxious and raucous Like soup with chopsticks, y'all can't eat, your profit All from garbage, we profits off of logic My name and style: Kongcrete, the most Hated, underestimated, rated, never dated, just laid it Decaffeinated, Cask decayed, they passed the weighted My man blast and blaze him. "What happened?" "You ate him" We laughed then played 'em, master players at the Brook' house Of mass orators. Kongcrete [Hook: Samples] "Hoes be like, 'Yup, I told y'all'" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I told y'all" "I bring confusion like roll call" "To emcees so-called, hoes be like, 'Yup, I told y'all'" "I bring confusion like roll call" "To emcees so-called, hoes be like, 'Yup, I told y'all'" [Verse 3: Kamackeris] You get Smashed, you bitch-ass, you ain't gonna last We represent those Decepticons, boom bash Way back in the diggy. Now niggas getting jiggy Fronting like they're murdering, up in your crib, burglaring When they ain't moving nathing, talking nothing Straight fronting, microphone-bluffing And you ain't wanna put me down, y'all Niggas must have thought I was clown, but this World go round, and Kwite Def going loud Yo, I get up on my ass 'cause my ass don't slouch Some of y'all be lazy, looking for Handouts, talking that shit with the yuck mouth Go ahead with it, get off my dick and for- -feit it. You couldn't do a step in my kicks, now you's A critic? That's that bullshitted. Y'all fucking Niggas be out boning broads who don't give A fuck—first night, they drop drawers, and you could care Less about catching some HIV What y'all niggas really need is some A-I-D So I say, "La vie." Y'all niggas probably Think you gotta thug just to emcee, y'all be Fantasy, Disney in 2G Never kick mentally, blind spiritually [Hook: Sample] "To emcees so-called, hoes be like, 'Yup, I told y'all'" [Verse 4: Gigan] Quickly Falling in the gutter, departing on that other Anyone come get it—shit, even Stalin or my brother Palm gripping rubber, spit it all in your gutter Slice through you blubber like a Gemstar through butter Hustlers like me don't see the name. Hand scale, the weight In his face, yo, popping but, shit, still need a gram O-Z's, see your fam, not Greyhound but four Fiends blessed, plus it moved beyond Peter Pan See, the plan's a bag of chicken shit. Since you're from New York Beyond, where they're on the thick and shit, gas 'em up so they Flap lips and shit 'bout where the green move fiends, and who Stack chips and shit, raise clips at quivers, stripping Shit, spread samples out, let 'em know whose Shit this is and that they should stick to this. It's that Raw shit, have you stutter-stepping and drooling. If brothers Talk war, quickly cock weapons and school 'em, tell 'em: My treaties ain't equal—on some biz—and you'll Feel this Desert Eagle if you play Paul Revere, so don't Tell your people Brooklon is here. Turn, the waist Stands out like Bugsy Siegel strapped in war gear. Don't take A hustler to know a hustler