The Future

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson] I got a cousin that plays for the Utah Jazz But I don't have to run the two to shoot y'all ass Peace to Ronnie Brewer, on the mic I'm the manure Got a Ruger for the coward tryna hate on the computer Mad because my power made him say that I'm the future Or maybe cause I taught they baby mama Kama Sutra Since then, I'm feelin' like I must be on parole I told her I was Guilty, she put me in the hole I put her on exhibit, then I put her on the stroll She makes a bigger bankroll than bitches on the pole I clap for the cause, I scrap for my dawgs Imagine Mayweather with a Mac in his drawers! (BRAT!) A daily combo, I'm the Head Honcho All about my doe, fuck casual convo Unless you talkin' 'bout that bread, then you ain't really talkin' fam Nuff said [Hook: Guilty Simpson] The future... the future... I'm... I'm... the future! The future... I'm... I'm... I'm the future! The future... I'm... I'm... I'm the future! [Verse 2: MED] Unh, let the games begin I'm from the OX, but don't got bulbous chin(?) Nah we hot, we somethin' like ash wind Has-beens, quick to get peeled like, dead skin If two clips of five want to act big Washing ten off the mac, like Red Skins Set trends, world wind Rain, wind, and fire through mic wires, like X-men Deep waters, still see the shark, fam Tony Gywnn with the pen, not the park (?), nigga Get used to the name, cause we ain't goin' nowhere like, Cranberry stains Strawberry on my Blackberry page, bad with names cause of Raspberry haze Street medley, so the thugs engage, and go heavy That's plain that the future's ready [Hook] [Verse 3: Guilty Simpson] Let me back at 'em... yo I rap for the rugged hard heads that stack funds I don't recommend it, but I choose to pack guns In case my foes make good on the promise To put me in the ground, I ain't always do it honest El presidente, killers on the congress You're mere mortals, the flow's monstrous Get bound and gagged and beat unconscious Shank in the mess hall, murderin' all convicts My bloody hand solves all conflicts Why talk, we can settle on some mob shit Your swan dive when shit gets deep At the bottom of the creek wearin' cement feet What!