Black Spasmodic

[Intro: Q-Tip & (Q-Tip & Phife Dawg)] Yo, y'all ready? Yo, Phife, you ready? Cons, you got that part, right? A'ight (I dunno but it don’t matter who choose to set it off ATCQ, no doubt my niggas is boss Little half-ass rappers, y’all pissin’ me off Time to dead ‘em all off, yo, no matter the cost) [Hook: Consequence] (Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers (Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber (Spasmodic) Who kept up a buzz the whole calendar (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger (Spasmodic) Now look what he does to any challenger [Verse 1: Phife Dawg] Now who want it with the Trini gladiator? Mid finger to you haters, you biters not innovators I take zero for granted, I honors my gift Champion pen game, plus I’m freestyle equipped You clowns be bum sauce, speak my name, it’s curtains Hamdulillāh, my crew’s back to workin' Trash rap the dead, pussy kill the chirping No more fuck boys, sit down, shit can only get worse And how do you touch mic with flows uncertain? Speak game dry, boy, that flow ain’t workin' Folks throwin' items, them vex and cursin' Fuck made me wanna see these niggas in person? Third song in, motherfuckers dispersin' Only to realize Donald Juice in the buildin' Big tune this for man, woman, and children Back on my bullshit, Busta Bus' then we kill them [Hook: Consequence] (Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers [Verse 2: Q-Tip] My nigga spirit be talkin' to me, let me explain Not through evil mediums, tarot cards, and Ouija games But through mixing chords and boards And even drum machines—he be saying: "Nigga fuck awards, keep reppin’ Queens" And don’t be taking slack from these non-rapping niggas, man That intellectual shit you spit, you better change your plan Especially when you see 'em at the lobby of a label And they don’t seem able to outstretch they hands And admit they fans You better flame 'em in the J's that they standing in Ostracize they memory for not remembering The articles reduce their body parts to particles And dust the Dead Sea with their cremated molecules I’m leaving, but nigga you still got the work to do I expect the best from you, I’m watching from my heaven view Don’t disappoint me, make sure that they anoint me As the blue ribbon pedigree, the best of show, five-foot-three Speak of the legacy for short people around the world Napoleonic, bionic people who cause the world to twirl Rip every stage with grace, look right dead in they face Live the Tribe principle of havin' impeccable taste Enjoy that breath like that one was your last one left If you don’t believe me, Tip, there’s truly life after death So refer to the Biggie covers and shoutout my Trini brothers And please check in on my mother... Malik Izaak, call me shorty" [Hook: Consequence] (Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers (Black) (Spasmodic)