Bodybuilding (Main)

Lyrics

[Intro: Keith Masters and (billy woods)] Yeah. What? Yeah. What? We right here (Yeah). We in the woods (Woods). Yeah, yeah, bodybuilding, niggas. Where my creatine at? Where my Myoplex at? Where my Red Bull at? Pass the vodka. Pass the Henny. We 'bout to do it, baby. Uh, uh [Verse 1: Keith Masters] My hand is the root penetrating through the Earth Put up peace signs in China, negotiating nuclear Warfare. A penniless pavilion war's fare For skepticals to peep the Armageddon in lawn chairs My arm is the biological missile My remorse is the '98 inspection crew The council withdrew, the truth did too When The Towers new, superpowers get their just due My mind is the vortex for raw sex To careful rubber rappers of contraceptive parent talks Lost in my mind like driving through foreign towns With a pocketful of bombshells, walking down the Nile My heart pumps Chicago tunes, Southern blues All congested with the vapors like New York City avenues So with an electrical tick, I'll march To the beat of a Diff'rent Drummer like Arnold and Willis Visualize my eyes under Iraqi skies Wake up to exploding shrapnel with no time to improvise Good Morning America. Smells a lot like Vietnam All up in this shit with our full-metal jackets on [Hook: Keith Masters] I can feel the Earth breathing like a burden on my chest Every day, more pressure 'cause this world is a mess That's why people seek religion, bow at pews to confess Others slap hoes and stack dough to blow sess I can feel the Earth breathing like a burden on my chest Every day, more pressure 'cause this world is a mess That's why people seek religion, bow at pews to confess Others stack dough, slap hoes, and blow sess [Bridge: Keith Masters] Well, well. "Race Matters," says Cornel West Reloading, mumble, still signifying, "Surely you jest" My mouth utters rhythms of that "Ol' Man River," claim "He must know something (Something). Don't say nothing (Nothing)" [Verse 2: billy woods] Come on, money. How that sound? Could boys handle Those pounds? Nigga, I'll Randall Cunningham Your little town. Warren Moon, flip dough, number one We bash you goons. Play your position, lay in These tombs. If you listen, these coons will sing you A tune or maybe not. We don't dance no more In case you ain't know, in case y'all ain't smelled the dro He's the one with the Osama beard and the awkward flow Flow awful slow. "Eenie, Meenie Miney, Moe. Catch a nigga by his toe" I don't think so. We on the go, high-stepping Like Marcus Allen. Reavers repping from Monsta Island The Dark City back to Shaolin, smiling See me, 9-1-1 what they're dialing See me on the mic, you wilding. O.T. back-and-forth Like a violin. Jacked a Porsche, now we styling Show you how this done like Jackie Chan Coach calling punt on third down. God damn! Charles Barkley a fan. Bodybuilding? Nah, fam. Only thing I lift is grams [Verse 3: Keith Masters] Still paint the perfect portrait while the colors forfeit From Robeson to Robinson, splitting niggas off it. I'm Lifting my city off the ground, working biceps Lynch mobs creep through the night with a misconceived Concept of height. Is it wrong? Is it right? Just Tales from the hood, where killer cops plant crack pipes Fuck the paperwork. I'ma lift 'til it hurts And my chest goes berserk. Fuck the pain away like Dirk Saw my name in neon lights, written in cursive Keith Masters amphibious, living submersive like Aquaman, understand? A hundred and fifty Penny vans and caked-up frying pans. Keep my mm, mm Goods in Campbell Soup cans. All just To outthink the man, outlive the plan Bench-pressing emcees and clapping in the middle of the reps And don't half-step in the circle of the wreck 'Cause I done trimmed off the fat, put some muscle on my pec There's no emcee alive whose mind I can't dissect Mental check. Let me recollect. Drifted off In the middle of a set, middle of a set