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The Last Lyricist
[Intro: DJ Kay Slay] It's a
time for martyrs now, as the
rap game that's in a
crisis Record sales continue to decline, record labels are mergin And cats got confused on what's real hip hop [Chorus: Busta Rhymes] We got the
real live spitters in the
game of rap! All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack! Where my lyricists at?! Where my lyricists at?! Where the
fuck you niggas at?! Where the
lyricists at?! [Verse 1: Big Lou] I
could carry the
weight of Pun, ressurect Big L's lungs And jack every single beat that Jam-Master Jay spun I'm the
lyrical son of Rakim, the
jab of Bernard Hopkins The
voice of B.I.G. and Pac overlooked by Johnnie Coch-aran The
KRS-One doctrine, the
monster in these niggas That be posterin I'm robbin 'em in a
whip they girlfriend drivin 'em I'm butter without the
margarine, the
crack without the
sizzle The
rain without the
drizzle, the
hammer without the
chizle The
baller without the
dribble, the
scribble Scrabble, the
Writer's Block I
bibble babble have the
spit and flip the
rip the
chain that shackles Had to fight and grapple and tackle the
Rotten Apple I
traveled from Camden and met the
Drama King at the
tabernacle Gave me the
juice like a
Snapple, ran with it like the
Olympics Encrypted my signature on templets for the
cake like Krimpets Move Atlantis, I
Am Legend, knock a
Troy to Armageddon Lyrical prophet the
hip hop heavens, raised by Latin Florida Evans [Chorus: Busta Rhymes] We got the
real live spitters in the
game of rap! All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack! Where my lyricists at?! Where my lyricists at?! Where the
fuck you niggas at?! Where the
lyricists at?! [Verse 2: Papoose] No lyrical content just typical nonsense My mental too complexed to listen to garbage Every lyric I
palm breast he grippin a
large tek And killin you God bless that shit is too far fetched Givin you are a
threat then live it don't talk mess Niggas in projects ain't feelin you more or less This hittin your heart yes you miserable or stressed Get rid of you y'all sets, finish your squad next Pitiful process with spirits that's part flesh We rip through your small chest with critical objects Nigga you waan test the
general confess I'll injure you frauds best in criminal contest No killa you harmless my birth involves death Umbilical cords wrecked my little unborn neck Before I
get all dressed in greens and oppress And walk through the
yards vexed I
rather graveyard rest [Chorus: Busta Rhymes] We got the
real live spitters in the
game of rap! All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack! Where my lyricists at?! Where my lyricists at?! Where the
fuck you niggas at?! Where the
lyricists at?! RAH! [Verse 3: Papoose] Totalos tiempo [?] Contiene mal aliento I'll kill you tomorrow Playin with Papoose like I
ain't the
rap truth I'll kill 'em in that booth you doubt it go ask booth Slay gave me the
dice, I
hit 'em with the
deuce They started laughin but man this the
deuce that killed Bruce [Verse 4: Big Lou] The
most original, lyrical criminal, leave you in critical Torture and ridicule these pitiful rappers, I'm cynical With the
flow that's enormous, my swagger and stage performance The
corners I
sold to foreigners, they zoners tryin to extort us The
coca I
dropped in waters, supporters I'm crossin borders Papa blessin me with orders, I
never move like the
tortoise I
rather move like the
Testarossa, eat like I'm in Ponderosa 2008 Keyser Sosa, I'm shittin on all these chokers [Chorus: Busta Rhymes] We got the
real live spitters in the
game of rap! All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack! Where my lyricists at?! Where my lyricists at?! Where the
fuck you niggas at?! Where the
lyricists at?!
完毕