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Madlib
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1
[Verse 1: Domo Genesis]
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Live like 9-5, I rhyme and come alive
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My grind divides fine through my divine eyes
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It's prime time, you wish you could buy time, but it's my time
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Thoughts against I, blasphemy, it's like a vice crime
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I roll 'em thick and I ignite mines
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I don't even get high, I just get equally back in my right mind
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I'm getting lethal with these nice lines
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Creeping through your speakers
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Catch you sleeping like a thief of in the nighttime
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Young Doms, none of you niggas correspond, bitch
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Kick the fuck out of the track on some Jean-Claude shit
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Get the fuck out of the streets, nigga, I bomb shit
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Shit ain't all good no more, y'all on your con shit
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The fuck is your conscience? Testing me is nonsense
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The whole city is mine, I'm the best up in my conference
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Ain't feeling me, fine, ain't gotta listen to my shit
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You can hear about me from the critics all on my dick
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[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
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Bitch, I've been thugging since the motherfucking Ten Speed
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Redbone on my handlebars, I like my bitches mixed breeds
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Feel the Philly tighten with a 20 sack of stress weed
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Educated, at the stove I'm working recipes
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Reputation say I'm robbing just for recreation
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Revive my enemy with gun-to-mouth resuscitation
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Can't wait to this pussy nigga pay me, I'm impatient
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Let's go kick in their door and strip them naked, leave 'em stinking
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No witness, no weapon, my nigga, the case is over
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The reaper snatched 'em, closed casket, his family needs a closure
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And Moses had ten commandments, Huey had ten points
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Won't see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint
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Staring at my future in my rear-view
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Family cried some tears, I got some years, it ain't no issue
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Mama with the tissue
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Saw her breaking down, she just might cry a river
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Murder one, she can't believe she raised that type of nigga
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[Verse 3: G-Wiz]
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I tried to do right, but it only got your boy fucked in the game
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So I changed my mind, now I'm back on this grind
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Trying to get this change
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Niggas hate to see me getting it
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Travelling packs with a red dot
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Boy, it ain't your knot, trying to get what you got
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When the rain and the pain gon' stop
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Standing on the porch early, no shoes, selling blow in my socks
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And I was watching for the ghetto bird
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Ain't got no money for college
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So all I know is how to sack and how to serve
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I be damned if I miss another lick for the chips
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Got me stacking, almost splurging on weed, syrup and whips
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Niggas around my way be loving it
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I'm Cadillac'ing, blowing good alligators with the belts to match
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I got an ounce with an ounce to match, bust it down, get back
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Hopefully maybe get the clique out the trap
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I need dough like a bread baker (Amen)
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24/7, got ready on the turf, player
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All day
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[Verse 4: Casey Veggies]
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Make 'em hop in the new coupe
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Niggas been winning, that ain't nothing new
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Forgive me for the sinning that they be doing in this business
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Not using their words to express truth
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Out in the streets with a screw loose
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On the Westside I got the juice
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Just tell me what you trying to do
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She loving the crew and ain't fucking with you
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I go where the hood niggas get into it
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I go where the bad girls go shop
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Every window tinted but the rooftop
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That money I'll just spend it to get you shot
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Can they be hating, they got no reason
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Right where they got me, the place I Delete 'em
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We kicking on weaklings just for all of their secrets
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I can't believe the shit that I'm seeing
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I'm hearing the words, doing my reading, it's really absurd
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Not enough leaders, the shit that they feed you, it's just what you eating
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They call me young Veggies, I make it go green
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I smash in all your teeth, the fuck is you saying?
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You got the candy's, the niggas is spraying
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To get away and take over the land, yeah
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[Verse 5: Sulaiman]
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My mind on capital, I'm not just rapping, dude
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I'm out to speak actual factual, watch how a master moves
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You ball a fist what that gon do
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I'm from a city clapping fools
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You off the tit and [?] lacking while watching me fashion stools
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Shitting styles, you never had a hot line that I didn't dial
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Little princes always trying to fit a bigger crown
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But don't forget I sit amidst some seasoned gents
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Them bitches knowing he a pimp ain't even need to read the blimp
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It was a good day, good day to O'Shea
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A death certificate for anyone who lay in my way
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You best revisit all the tombstones that lay in my wake
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Me being knowledge, be honest
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You seen the prophet get sacrificed by the Ops
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It get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing
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Residue on pinata's, wonder what's up inside of 'em
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It's sure ain't no Vicodin cause it up and excited 'em
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But they ain't get high enough, if you ain't succeed, nigga
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Buy again then try again
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[Verse 6: Meechy Darko]
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It's the irrational type of nigga, the John Madden tackle you
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Steal your car keys and crash your coupe in the botanical
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Wrap you with shackles, tangle you, pull from ever angle, dismantle you
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Watch your blood mixed with mud and stain the gravel too
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Grab and shoot, rib cage open like a parachute
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Close range, Swiss blade, poke 'em if it's personal
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Blood stains, gold fangs, mask on, no traits
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Murder one, closed case, stolen whip, no plates
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Half a body in the trunk, go to prison, no way
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Speed off the Brooklyn bridge before I catch a cold case
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Realize I'm the voice for those who do not have a voice
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So I voice my fucking voice, I don't have a fucking choice
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Cold blooded, leave some niggas, well I hope you got insurance
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Shotgun and shorty lift 'em like the potent in my joint
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Barrels smoking like Red Auerbach
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Still can't believe I'm getting fed on rap
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I don't know what's louder, the pack or the gat
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[Verse 7: Mac Miller]
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My endorphins are morphin', absorbin' energy
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Original copy, A Tale of Two Cities gets read to me
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Reading Emerson novels eating some Belgian waffles
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Some powder go up my nostrils, my dick going down her tonsils
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What's up? Play with an abacus, I've been stressing like Catholics
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That's the shit, a bit of that happiness in my cup
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This generation corrupt, these people brainwashed with evil
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My music is more cerebral, exploring just what you need to
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So this your Exodus, church of the Methodist
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Beating up the pussy, have her screaming like a exorcist
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Absorb it through your pores, the Lord with horns, a world war
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Whores are more hors d'oeuvre when it's a world tour
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O'Doyle Rules
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Deeper (Officia...
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