Talkin' My Shit
Intro Sample:
Shit, motherfucker you talkin' to the kid.
Talking (Brother Ali):
Yeah. Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls
The one and only Brother Ali is in the house tonight
That's me. We gettin' directly into this right here
Verse One:
Hold up
Do you mind? I'm trying to build a kingdom here
Walk to the store with your boy let's get a ginger beer
Listen here I got some shit to sprinkle in your ear
Rip and tear the kick and snare, whistle like Rakim was near
Independent penmanship, sending bitch-tendency-havin'-rich-rappers to their residences
My present tense is legendary livin'
Like my fifty grand merch, work for what I'm givin'
Build and add to it with the skill I mastered it
Carefully grabbin' shit to build a castle with
Ended up champion of underground rappin'
It ain't what I imagined but I still ain't mad at it
I'm in a college town bossin' that crowd around
Raise your hands, wave em up, do it like this and holler out
Like a Gladiator movie score
Try to teach a cracker rapper how to clap on two and four
In the crowd I'm shakin' peoples hands
Just to take an equal stance with my barely legal fans
Can't believe they ass came and heard him raw
Made em want to run and hug him with a sweaty shirt and all
Labels turn me off, I ain't what they lookin' for
I ain't got a six pack, tatoo or a bullet hole
But I'm muscle underneath all that
You get your peanut smacked
I scrap like I'm Butterbean on crack
How he manage not to catch heat flashes?
On stage Adidas jacket doin' Heavy D dances
These rappers are graffiti on canvas
Even if they snappin' they could only be half of it
Chorus:
I say shit motherfucker shit
Ali and I'm sittin' on another hit
He got his fist up to the government
Still tryin' to get his dick sucked, son of a bitch
So let me talk my shit
C'mon now, let me talk my shit
Calm down, let me talk my shit
Verse Two:
Let me start off my shit like this
Quiet down now the masters rappin'
And Ant got his back trying to craft a classic
Joe Mabbott track, they have to grab it
Like my dick when they...naw, I ain't sayin' that shit
We all thought some weak lines by now
But you actually rewind and write yours down
You must be high in the studio to speak it
And then decide to keep it and release it
So either you believe it
Or you don't give three shits about havin' lyrics, you can take it or leave it
So if you're not really thinkin' about the things that you say
Then don't call me a hater when I feel the same way
Came up in the day, listening to the greats
Love the smell of fate, half a cotton and a weight?
I ain't dumbin' down you're gonna have to smarten up
Too tough, your blade ain't sharp enough to cut
Bout to fuck em up
Someone should have ran and told him that I'm nuts
Buttercup ain't tryin' to knuckle up
Sock 'em in the eye, baby, slug 'em in the gut
Should have never let the Brother run a muck
What the fuck!
Chorus
Verse Three:
Big bad, fat ass
Cat that can rap fast
Straight up nasty like a New Orleans lap dance
Last chance to pass on the chitterlings
But act now and we can still split a thing of chicken wings
Fredo Corleone, bitch kiss the pinky ring
Backpack raps answer to Sam Kinison
Is in your town
Act like your shit isn't brown
Your highness probably piss sitting down
These Eddie Brock MCs is so venomous
Can't seem to picture the authenticness
Trying to keep up is bad for your health
It's a walk in the park, I'm photographing myself
Chorus
Scratching:
"People round town talkin' this and that" - EPMD on "So Whatcha Sayin'"