The flavor will still be there.
Tonight we send out one X-Man to kill the Joker.
The flavor will still be there.
Tonight we send out one X-Man to kill the Joker.
I'm a superhero,
at least I thought I was last night.
High speed chase,
ducked away,
I was out of sight.
Visible, like last night.
A hundred miles running,
except for the president.
They never saw a G coming straight from Hollywood to the ghetto.
I'm hustling backwards,
motherfucker my in-mobile.
I'm masters degree in feeding sheep with the fake steaks.
Make a skinny bitch fat,
full of starch and corn flakes.
I got rich nigga problems and a pro-man attitude.
Like Africa,
we starve,
on my ticket every dime or two.
I got * niggas on my block that ain't cool.
For some odd reason, I'm inspired by Dead Crew.
I'm a goddamn fool, mommy said I'm a retard.
So I believe that,
and got hooked on them folk bars.
I'm still popping alcoholic,
worshiping false gods.
Boom doom nigga,
taking naps in graveyards,
I'm blazing hard.
Dangerous, this whole game's endangerous.
Came in the game with nine million things to bang and bust.
And God,
we trust,
make this game sane because,
everything our forefathers built is bang to dust.
If dang is us,
do we perch and clap to the throne?
Gather up a pile of made bones,
start to rush in they homes.
They gonna respect,
respect who,
pay what they owe.
That that ain't, that ain't the set crew.
Letting them know, we all militant.
Soldiers in the war, to score ignorance.
Fifty cal hammers with the sights set on ignorance.
I beat, niggas speaking out on what I see.
Sadly displayed on FB,
and not cheating,
no choice.
But it's acute maneuvers through dead noise.
And trying to amplify the muted chords,
dead voice.
This game's dying, slow the culture is in pain.
Every other joint is blowing,
the heart is in flame.
The quarter zone,
eases up the pressure,
so I'm not alone.
Monotone cries on behalf of those that are not at home.
Play combinations, punching victories cold.
Throughout the struggle, lugging victories low.
So I'm standing up for the ride.
Guaranteed to be clappers,
toe tappers,
ain't no actors.
Got a bunch of L rappers that'll smoke a mic faster.
I'm just one like Yoda's son.
I'm holding one, I just begun a trilogy.
You empty nigga feeling me?
Feel this life of symphonies.
Ain't nothing stopping like some old school tapes popping.
Download,
roll,
load another clip of Rolls with my heat seeker.
Clean those silly holes in a deep fever.
Can't picture a foot in your ass on a sneaker.
That's the motto, the right time.
I hit niggas like Powerball, Lotto, Pop Moscato.
Sit back and rock out with Paco.
Always like to meet us with a bunch of senoritas.
And a whole lot of reefer and nachos in the spotlight.
Here we go.
You're doing old * like it's new,
but it's pitiful.
Individual, critical.
I'm packed my rhymes just like scenarios.
Your motivation's slow,
your softest words are like cake shortening.
Your chick know what to do for Captain
when she be bought and kneeled down.
I like it classy and orderly.
The juice maker talk Portuguese.
All rappers wearing tight pants reporting
the elephants looking for peanuts.
How much y'all snort quarterly?
Fall out with gold estate.
Now she wanna have a baby with David Lee.
Five grand, penny pinch.
I spend that on matchbox cards.
And matter of fact, keep that erased to track.
Don't even pay me.
They talking in the office wearing Maybelline.
Hollywood area,
I like it cause it's make believe.
Give out business cards,
ride it around like you on a silver screen.
Max Julian,
get out the caddy.
That's brown and cream.
Pull up curbside, get chick hopping the ride.
Chilling with the ladies to the breaking,chillin'
with the ladies till the break of dawn....