Oh yeah, you know what's going down
We got DJ T-Bone up in the ones and twos
On the juggalers, keeping it cool, yes, yes
Malaysia's finest MCs, y'all hungry MCs
First stop, PFK
Joe Flair's the assassin
You know the game, son
First to bat, right?
Right, right
Watch out, you know
Enjoy it right here
Let's go, let's go, give it up
Joe Flair's old, got more soul than the 88
Olympics for superior
Like Jesse Owens in 36
I'm quick to crush it,
clean your walls for it like Berlin
Never forget the name of Grand Wizard like Merlin
Hypnotizing rap sermons that will take you back
To the Lionel,
mad crazy legs,
got his first six-step
Little can of stock,
he won't eat,
treated his first ***
Into the next today,
Theodore,
we ate at the scratch
I'm elevating rap, got every ride, I be proud
From KL,
better keep you in check like a prison in Prague
Get it, like a prison in Prague
I stay hungry, similar to an anorexic
Imagine calling me dog and you's is dyslexic
Remain the lyrical, papo, di tu, di papi
Don Fero,
Flaubert,
and MCs call me RP Always stick to the code,
Omerta,
truly
I will reveal nothing,
not even with a dagger through me
Cartel,
oh,
I'm killing him Eating the mic socks,
smoking it up
Yo,
yo,
George Smith Whispering on drugs right here
Alright,
that's it It's when I grip the pen down for the paper
sheets Slit lines for me, it's constantly defeat
Rhetoric on the lyrics list,
cleansing like a Norton disc
As my therapeutic data travel like Islamic
Unlocking frequencies with new waves to
enter Collective thoughts to raise up,
slinging blade
offender Defender, both opposes get roast when
I ignite mics tense like Coachman Fantastic,
I bring damage to your tactics
with force From source,
make words connect like cable
bolts I'm traveling,
hear your ears with all craft
The crowd cheers,
applauding is best yet Now wordsmith has arrived with good vibes
Alive,
484,
the number that stood while Malaysia's
replica spits the finest grafted
Through fire, the line fired is on, we placed it
Yeah,
uh-huh, coming back, yo Come on, keep it in hot
Yo, it's McKeith, man Yo, going out for respect
Check this, man Now let's get back to the basics
I'm freaking amazing,
you peeps gotta face it The youngest in
Cartel better got the rest of the cats racing
I'm blazing,
it reaps through snags,
I'm honest,
beyond what you call far
I literally define the concept,
I'm raising the bar
Yes,
I'm blazing the talk,
moving more cars than any exodus
And I'm moving more feet than prosthetic leg manufacturers
So stop acting up cause you clowns and blast enough
I pop like Kalashnikovs and spit fire like Molotovs
What?
That's why you spats can never hit back
Cause the impact of my syntactic,
no microphone cables intact
In fact,
Dreefo is still hibernating But the slightest vibrations got all them
haters heads a-tickin' So don't cheap off lip scripts more than you
reckon I can go from dope flow to dirty masking in .30 seconds
I'm repping the weapon so y'all gotta get with me
Cause Cartel is just a cover up,
this is the Malaysian monopoly
Romantic is the fantastic,
5 MCs plus 1 So respect is automatic,
smooth operator
Love the lux,
cruise,
catch a static Who shot ya?
Never thought, R.I.P.
on the
quiet form Lyricists who got these MCs paying rent
With the gift of rhyme on time Boy,
you know your flow,
soul,
snow style
They come to cross lines,
I snap the Cartel back to back
You know I rock well,
you can tell I got eyes all around this killer
Yeah, I'm a hustler, H-U-S-T-L-E-R, hustler
Oh yes,
they call me princess And I got two piece,
I got a million
They wanna do me,
excuse me I ain't your average type,
quit me on any live show and see me damage the mic
Watch out, watch out
That was hot, that was hot
Yo, keep it moving, keep it moving
Q-Tel, yo, bring in the style, let's go, come on
Hold up, hold up, on the rail
Yo, Q-Tel, what's the deal with Biggie, man?
What's the deal with Biggie, dawg?
You don't listen to MCs?
Tell these cats who else you get down with, man
Step up, step up, dawg, come on
Ice and cheese, man, why your record label?
Tell him Q's spittin', burn you himself
Tell him he batter you and rob you
when you're back layin' in straight
And left you running butt naked,
lookin' for shade
I rearrange your rap game on a regular basis Spent more
time with a cheaper stick than I ever did with a racist
And I bet you gotta be tone deaf to
hate this You're lackin' logical basics,
like packin' a dumb hit of a blind racist
In this case,
I'm hookin' up Thugz,
holla in your damn swallow
While you fightin' clubs for hours with the same bottle
I'm hookin' up with the sips,
hangin' with ya,
make the chase Got ya,
said I'm sick,
now back and spittin' sick
Heard you feel like Supernat,
let's get some battle rhymes You give me some for yours,
I murder you with some of mine
You just a sucker,
rhymin',
chokin' battles all the time And every time you f*** a line,
you layin' it on the DJ
Yeah,
I'm never lakin',
this is the way she date it Recycling
the best from the best and underrated
Q's a seasoned veteran,
no body tighter Probably that dead president,
your ghostwriter,
ghostwriter
Man,
I'm walkin' up,
crank street corners at night Stalkin' in
dirty sneakers and licks ready to light
Destroy speakers and lights,
cause I'm out for respect Pullin' up,
receiving calls on the set
Then I jet to catch commuter trains up to KL City Nitty gritty,
comedy,
come on,
get down with me
The south,
fellow tenements hard,
we keep tellin' them Ridin' across
walls with ill schemes and nethering
When I'm comin' through with a style you ain't
even screwed straight up 730 like somethin' crucial
Expanding borders cause my squad is enormous
Go way up north down to the line city borders
Hubs get hurt,
but the verse is dry by the concept Like wireless bump sets,
so we tryin'
Streamline all time,
our Malaysia's finest,
son Don't try this,
son,
don't try this
Yeah,
103.6,
always comin' through With the illest hip-hop,
know what I'm sayin'?
Yeah,
pick up to the MCs,
comin' through Tonight,
make life slice Yo,
check it out,
2Fest new album Rebirth in 2 reality
The products,
103.6, Contell Radio
Hello,
hello Mr. DJ What's good, man?
Yeah,
this MC Bumbo Poi,
you know what I'm sayin'?
What up, Bumbo Poi?
Yeah,
you know,
I'm feelin' the album,
you know what I'm sayin'?
2Fest,
them boys done come up,
you know what I'm sayin'?
They're doin' real well
Yeah, yeah, what you gotta say?
You know, they left the brother out
What you mean, man?
What you mean?
Nah,
you know,
I'm supposed to be hoppin' that album
MC Bumbo Poi got skills,
you know what I'm sayin',
you boy?
Yeah, yeah
I got skills,
you boy Why don't you give a taste of what you got,
man?
Aight,
aight,
aight,
aight,
aight,
check this out,
man,
boy,
let me take it
MC Bumbo Poi walkin' down the street
On my side, me a pon got the key
See a rude boy a-steppin'
I love me play game, play game
Pon, pon, pon, pon, pon, pon
My rude boy pon the deck
You not feel that?
Nah, nah, nah
Let me give you the beat
Yo,
yo, yo, you crazy, man, you crazy, man
Never mind,
rude boy,
never mind,
rude boy,
this ain't my day,
you know what I'm sayin'?
Don't worry,
I call again,
I call again,
I call again when I'm ready,
you know what I'm sayin'?
Keep practicin', man, enough respect, sir
Peace, boy