And so my fellow nerds, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.
Now, let's do this.
Hard as, hard as Chinese arithmetic, avant-garde, not a heretic.
Pick out a right, but I'm sticking in my cranium.
Nice elementary like uranium, forward joints.
Blowing like a cool breeze, swinging at a lift on juice, I wax MC'd.
These hoes go frontin' on my jimmy, I smack him on the back, sit him down, say give me some rivel.
Baby loosen up my collar, I lay out like a funeral parlor.
Ready, willing, filling, killing for a billion.
Top, I never stop with searching, Sam drilling his soul in a hole.
MC's working, kicking and vicking, the suckers will be jerking.
Me and my posse are hardcore, you want some more reason, I'm skeezin' ya girl.
So I flees, then I threw in the gutter.
Cut up a joint.
My wisdom wise, so I muster.
Rolls up all my poles, lows conquer all.
Those who pose is dope, I say no.
I wear death clothes, dapper like damn fun.
Three the hard ones, never stickin' ties as a rapper.
Slap your stunt from a tongue as you run from the drum.
Three the hard ways, words of wisdom.
A branch of the hip-hop tip grills your dome.
Your tone grown low, showin' you ain't got nobody home.
Clone to the microphone, light up and take out.
Make out your will, build three, it's gonna break out the styley.
Me and P-E-T-E embark on a mission that's deadly.
Break out the ammo.
Ayo Sammo, hook up the beat and I'll lay the plan.
Oh man, you just got taken.
I took a head out, attack on the back of the six of the Guinness Stout.
Usin' a few things.
Two of the past tense, fun and gunny.
But I'm summing up the nonsense.
Three the hard way, cards laid are okay.
Gettin' up and settin' up.
Just more payday to minister sinister.
I ain't no devil, not a snake slitherin' scoundrel.
Sam leveled this track to smack the smile off a doubter.
The brother's another MC who's about to butt like he's buttoned.
Deceivin' the delinquent.
Rapper's on track, bustin' out a medium for those opposed.
Who manifests a ***?
P, tell him.
Manifest this.
Not righteous, but might just make you wanna listen.
Yo, I'm Melvin.
Elvis with the words of wisdom.
Three the hard way.
Three the hard way.
Three the hard way.
Three the hard way.
A ludicrous Buddhist.
Rude is when I do this.
So true to this.
Perpetrators do this.
Style and miracle.
Lyrical is critical.
Free the hard way, boy.
You need medical attention.
I'm like a surgeon in my left hand.
Hold a microphone like a scalpel so you understand.
Words of wisdom woven like a spider.
Fitch on my tip.
I get busy and I ride up.
Uptown.
Then I drown it like a psychopath.
They got some graphic on the mic I never let go.
Lights fitter.
Eat dinner like a soul man.
Prove with the rhyme I'm down.
Sam's hand transforms strong.
Too strong.
That's a good pitch.
Switch up the wisdom.
It's a word which kicks out the Benzy in a frenzy.
It sends me up the Bronx river.
Back to Brooklyn apprehends me like a D-Tech bus.
And my man in a project.
It's a word which kicks out the Benzy in a frenzy.

I'll send you up north.
I ain't giving respect.
Prejudicial.
Your style artificial.
His life is a limb.
It's attached to a cripple.
It's simple.
Eliminate you like Gotti.
I chill in bed.
Style and drive a Maserati.
With the body of a freak on my side.
How am I living?
Largey large with the words of wisdom.
Hike or selective.
Search is attracting.
Females who focus on the future.
Not ***.









I'm slacking.
Rhythmic.
It's too quick.
Feel it.
I let it flow.
Sam Sever sees the suburbs.
So let it go.
Throughout.
I put out.
Lyrics like a devout.
Speak of a deeper meaning as I leak out and seek out.
The three to heart way endeavor.
Be nice.
Search.
* Sam Sever.
Living in my shoes, boy.
This is not a shoe town.
A showdown for Motown.
It's a new sound.
Lyrics that lick.
The tick off a time piece.
Foaming at the mouth pump.
You need a leash.
What are you sick?
I'm a slick stupid scientist rhyming that you can't comprehend.
But you're buying it.
Wreck it.
I'm wrecking.
My homeboys are breaking.
Hoping that you're coping.
No sloping.
I'm not taking no shorts.
Cause I'm playing.
The high post.
Ask any girl in the place.
Who's the prime most father with a cover?
Shoot to my cribbo.
The T's want to please.
Girl screaming ditto.
So I did this.
I needed the bed rest.
Hanging with the banging on the strip.
There's no contest.
Physically or lyrically.
It's my kingdom.
Stinging them and bringing them the words of wisdom.
This is my number three.
This is my number three.
The three to heart way endeavor.
This is my number three.
This is my number three.



Shamo.
Hook up the drum mugs.
.

.







We'll see you then.
We'll see you then.
We'll see you then.