Early Mornin' Tony

[Slug] Seven in the morning police at my door But I spent last night on someone else's floor Out the back window didn't know where I was I was still kinda buzzed with a head full of drugs [Murs] Lookin at my Nixon and it's about that time To go and save the world from the daily grind Speakin' of which, I gotta hit the OC For a quick sesh with my skate park OG's Oh please, this is still Mid-City Wanna check my street cred go ahead come get me On the block like mopeds or the threads on your Dickies And I flow code red off the head so swiftly Stole the Scribble show Fled had the feds go get me Still got head from your thoroughbred No hickies, oh really? Throw a veil on your Filly Took pictures of a crack like that bell out in Philly Had to kick out my tail cause she smelled like Phillies Smoking blunts left her breath so stale , could've killed me Silly quick-witted when I spit the shit get it I mean sit kitted, I mean, aw shit It's amazing I remember all the different shit I'm into I try to stay focused on getting legal tender Gotta stay on the grind cause if the legends get signed Gotta split that dough between 8 7 6 5 [Slug] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic, the women come Down with A-N-T, Murs and you're not And I got more rhymes than California got cops [Murs] Nine the mornin' police at my door Tryin' to wonder what the fuck they want to talk to me for She said she wanted money for some fundraiser shit I slammed the door in her face and said "Fuck you bitch!" [Slug] Lookin at my Nixon and it's about that time For me to light another cigaratte and settle my mind Footsoldier, been waiting for the took over Probably won't be getting naked if she looks over I'm a primate with pimp-like mind state Raising the curb to make contemporaries irate Still obsessed with your breasts and your fishnet Beating on my thin chest screaming out "Mid West!" My nature is to make you a believer On your stereo receiver or your barely legal beaver Buzzin' overhead spittin' fly game Nowadays cats be getting paid and layed up off of my name Wait a minte, take a number Made a visit to your village with this fresh baked biscuit And stayed consistent Breaking in the heads ain't as difficult When half of them are trippin' over how they missed the boat The key is controlled but your flow is contrived Keep it in my soul take it with when I die Plug that mic in and let heaven get live Turn a groupie into an angel when she 8 7 6 5 [Murs] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic all your homegirls come Down with A N T Slug and you're not And I got more rhymes than rappers who got shot