Terra N Ya Era

You looking in the mouth of madness, skilled out since I had this I'm talking bout nothing but pure D badness My acceleration is compatible to a bima My pockets looking greener, from the funky cold medina Don't tell me bout the things that you done did cause I done did it Don't tell me bout the skins that you done hit, cause I done hit it And once I rock these, with a style that's cock deis Good God, I get the crowd together like knock knees Now, I don't act hard, I just mack hard Baggin' video looking honeys with the big back yard Yes lord, girls I'm gamin' leaving the microphone flamin' Throwing up hip-hop signs cause that's the set that I be claimin' Guerilla war fares for those who love to pull your card Grimies from Fort Green to Malcolm X Boulevard Now, if that's what you're hoping then it's the wrong things you're scopin' I may not rap bout slittin no throats but trust me kid I'll get you open Verse 2 Here comes a taste of the rawness, like you never saw this Once I grip the cordless, my victory is flawless Chaos and havoc, lyrically psychopathic At times get pornographic, lord man I gots to have it Then I commit to hit you with this composite that's ultimate Too legit splendid come get wit' it for your comfort But then sloppily, rappers try to copy me Take pieces of my property, and use it all unproperly And probably, been focusing a while to copy my style But child what I'll compile is too versatile I'm too superior, it's sort of like comparing a Spanking new Desert Eagle to a rusty little derringer But skip the tool, let's try to deal here with the jewel That I'm droppin on you, now let me take you all to school You see, to graduate in hip-hop you must be smart And no you don't have to know how to paint to make your rhymes a form of art Poetry and literature is what makes this English fanatic Now dig this, I drop science but still deal with mathematics And since I don't be dealing with what's considered a mystery I learned the dead presidents to pass American History Got my degree in rapology Hip-hop had to set me free, look mom, a real emcee So you want yours now, well don't get caught with your drawers down Cause word life, this industry is half corrupt just like the Dogg Pound Verse 3 Rap godfather Oh goodness gracious, you better make it spacious For the vivacious, ostentatious, who feel courageous? I put it on them using my tongue as a sword But at times get broader than broad for those who insist to get floored Whatever it takes to see your nerve gone, and word born Black Caesar gonna get his swerve on My name should be referred to in medical terms Cause I get way up in the cut and I'm talking way worse than germs You like to chase it playin catch like Tom & Jerry But on the contrary, I'd rather sip the Dom Peri Lay back in harmony, because it's so bizarre to see That all the hard core rappers are slowly turning R&B Well pardon me, you contradict yo'self, I see you not perfect yo'self You like that type music yo'self, stick yo'self What happened to black men of pride 'nuff men have died Nowadays what's been applied, in hip-hop is genocide That's when the rappers go get the clappers Can't you see they trying to strap us just to trap us, good god it's backwards One nation under a groove, that's how we move It's time to teach the youth get it together show and prove Me no run with the gun or speak of none for action When you get done scream I'm the one, it looks like an illusion I deal with equality so never call my brethren son Yes mon, me got mad flava just like jerk chicken