Voices

(Kool Kieth) Yeah....Dr. Strange love...once again I gotta tell you how it is.... Verse 1: (Kool Kieth) I used to check out, use the mad route Stare at these ugly bitches, sit at the table with frowns with their Stomachs out Cellulite for weeks, rules in these NewYork streets With mad Babies, big heads movin' in the stroller You gettin' older while that dress hangs off your shoulder You stupid bitch He's sick, the kids got the shits You walkin' wack with those problems in your ass crack You chose this nigga, he's a zero girl, doin' nothin' You was buggin' because the bum had curly hair You got psyched, the baby came out with some nappy hair You was a fine freak, thoroughbred dumb with no head I seen you scraping up your pennies at B.B.Q.s Your friends are fat with guts, breakin' all the rules You choose to lose, no cheers, recievin' booes Rent is due with some old crab nigga fuckin' you It's true, it's summertime, what you gonna do? Every winter you got this gay man screwin' you This bitch is a problem, no money, fuckin' dummy She's from the slum actin' fly eatin' bread crums Shoplifted programs out on the boulevard Stretch marks leak out your tight dress, your legs are scarred Yeah.... Chorus (singing) Voices inside my head Problems keeping you fed Verse 2: (Godfather Don) This bullshit needs to cease Rappers rappin' for cheese It's like a disease the way niggas be snatchin' your fees Executives, even accountants playin' artists like chips The last time you were legit I was suckin' on nips Up in my shit like a Dog checkin' the sex Maybe to get in the Lex Hey, they forget, all the doors slammin' They crammin', eye jammin' Wait, "My shows slammin'" Cash up your nose Hammond Landin' deals ain't shit if your label ain't shit Nitwits spit for sips while I flip scripts legit Commit to whippin' ass on the mic, it's like a fuckin' runway These niggas is like bitches fleein' from gunplay One day when lyrical finesse is stressed instead of dress I'll compress Compression and hate, blow out the best But it's cool, fools like you makin' crews thats blue stay true One-Thousand lyrical orators, pay dues So snooze and get dissed Bust in the head with Cris', fake ice on your wrist I'm nice and you on my dick like piss You wish you was half the lyricist that I persist to be Don't say shit to me Godfather like cicily The misery's consistency through similes will blemish these Abnormalities in the industry Chorus (singing) Voices inside my head Problems keeping you fed Voices inside my head Problems keeping you fed