Mr. Smith

(album: Mr Smith - 1995)

Uh Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith
Uh Mr. Smith, it's the bomb y'know what I'm saying? Mr. Smith
Mr. Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr. Smith, check it out

I'm going to the top, leaving smoke in my trail
Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale
And even if I'm twice as expensive as the rest
When I go for dolo, you ain't checking for nothing less
My strategy is splitting brain cavity's
It's ya majesty bringing you a tragedy
Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox
When it's time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock
I bust through all types of red tape and sue papes
Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate
I'm cutting snakes through the belly with the icepick
And scooping hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips
It's the rebirth of murking niggas once again
I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen
I'm breaking ribs 'til something gives
A nigga got to live and Mr. Smith is power god, kid

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality
Originality, so face reality
I'm on some old wild shit, ya niggas can't get wit
Matter of fact, morning yawn and suck a dick
Nah hold up, the fuck is going on?
All these cartoon character MCs getting airborne
Taking off like a hot air balloon
Going up up up, oh no kaboom
Bring your heroes down to ground zero
Shotty gripping ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro
I'm on some shit, throats is getting shit
Scoopeding New Jacks and kick 'em in the fire pit
Tell them old Jap niggas they need to go and stick it
'Cause when it comes to this rap shit I'm mad wicked
The grand sire bringing flavor to the whole game
Mr. Smith is my motherfucking name

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up
Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up
Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up
To the bridge

Mr. Smith (I was a mack since birth)
Talking 'bout Mr. Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh
Talkin 'bout Mr. Smith
Talkin 'bout Mr. Smith
Talkin 'bout

Time's up, your rhyme's up, mix the lines up
I'm about to blow the spot up with that divine touch
I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic
Ya better call a medic 'cause ya look pathetic
Guan boy it's the champion Mr. Smith
Your niggas couldn't raise up with a forklift
Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar
It's hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party
All your so-called flavor niggas is deaded
Your next step is where ya headed so don't forget it
Your rhymes is beat, your steelo's scarred to scrape
When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth
I get you open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray
Lethal compositions around your way
I'm the maniacal murderous Mr. James Smith
Ripping ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up

Mr. Smith you got the shit sewed up
Work ya thing baby, show 'em how to blow up