This song was used on "A&R of the streets" compilation in 2002.
It's never too late to waste a little time.
This is mastabeta.
Honest rap. Anybody in a pink jumpsuit need not apply, unless of course you are man enough to wear it without checking with your friends every ten minutes.
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"A fine collection of bad dubs. I'm just glad it exists."
-EPL
Lyrics
You can keep your "phat whips' and your corny "jiggy poses"
The only thing ferocious about your flow is halitosis
The closest that you get to being "dope" is at a detox...
Cracked from all the pressure like some patent leather Reeboks...
Bartender leave the bottle and fill up my bowl of pretzels...
Let me hit you with this liquor I distilled between my temples...
When your rental's got a flat, I'll push it through like a Sherman...
Servin' up the roasted vermin on a plate of "toasted person"
But enough about myself, even though the topic's better...
I'm a toxin in the stratus like exhaust from a Jetta...
Let the world burn to ashes, gimme mine before it's over...
I'll write a letter full of maddness and still admit it when I'm sober...
"pleatherface" kills the head, Texas BRAINsaw massacre...
Lift you off your feet like cinder blocks under Acuras...
Smack you back to basement, hesitation ain't an option...
Some kids around my way asked me when the album's droppin'...
So I stopped for conversation, laced em' with an instrumental...
Then I went "off the head" while these heads went "off the pencil"...
Talkin' jive about the street, but didn't comprehend the pavement...
The city is alive, so I brought it to em' naked...
Masturbated with a smile as my thoughts became the jizm, wisdom poured out my system which reflected off a prism...
causing blindness of the iris as I blessed this "rap-tism"...
and violence turned to science through this underground religion...
Earth, wind...liars
Live it, breathe it...kill it...
The city is wild, up steps the wild child
I-I-I-I...I search not for acceptance, and live amongst the mole people...
I was stung by the needle in my need for independence...
Every sentence comes together like "bookmakers at the pennant"...
Set in motion like the horses in a race that neverended...
I recieve the transmission, wishin' that I couldn't hear it...
Outer space or out of state, retrievin' status through my spirit...
New York City is my home, New Jersey's just my getaway...
Hated by so many people, I'm immune to pepper spray...
As soon as yesterday was finished, today became abruptly...
Now I'm twisted in the system of the dark and the dusty...
Trust me when I say this world is coming to a finish...
Mastabeta smashed the set...
Air supplies are diminished...
The power I posess is the phlegm that I spit...
Yo, you can't make fun of me and that goes DOUBLE for my clique
Clicked together like rockets, like rockets we take off...
With pity for the jobs where we worked and got laid off...
A tunnel vision drone is just my own imagination...
I'm layin' off the crack to build my own "hellucination"
A large shadow looms and escapes through fiber optics....
"Beta-Rocaris" you can't stop me like the prophets...
(****)"I know a nigga with like, 10 Cadillacs...but his cataracts attract a blindness and he can't find it in himself...that he's wack and is too far behind...
In fact, I'm just glad that that nigga doesn't rhyme...
If he did, he'd be famous and get shot in the back...
...yo, it's funny how I smile when I think of that...." (****)
(****) = About a fake ass gangster that hates me.
