Trouble Man

[Produced by Chris Liggio & Juggaknots] [Verse 1: Buddy Slim] I declare war, the jaw becomes a rappifying weapon If you step in when your draws get mobbed behind enemy lines You become a sitting duck but fuck, I ain't giving 'em living trifle The pen and pad becomes a 12-gauge rifle This is no laughing matter Step into this you step in a minefield, your body scatters Your people try picking up the pieces But only corny niggas, the attack from a brother like the Buddy never ceases Without a moment of silence the violence thickens So if you ain't got it together you slim pickings Shorts and prisoners are never taken if you faking All the booty competition, I'm a bag fuck a white flag Get down and dirty like a brother in the trench Leave a nigga dead and stinking as he wonders what his stench is I'm busting clip after clip my artillery will funk on the punk When ya wanna test my shit [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Verse 2: Breeze Brewin] Damn it to hell is it, I feel my brain swell like meningitis With the slightest mind motion, giving me the notion That I got it bad I think I got a brain tumor, brain rumor Such a pain to analyze the strain and then understand it The seed was planted.. that shit is ill but still The thought I'm loving got the dome growing With the biscuit in the oven, shoving nothing but the nutrients My diet to support me, a whiff of the spliff A guzzle of the forty to inspire fire thought To the mic there was marriage, causing competition Verbal miscarriage of the mental fetus Greet us with the rugged rhythm then I'm showing I think I feel my water breaking thus I'm flowing Timing my contractions, concentrating on my breathing Heaving curses at the father he has the funk Cause if I flunk my shit ain't living Pushing giving every bit of what I'm worth And as the Brewing drops the lyrical, the miracle of birth [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] [Verse 3: Buddy Slim] I be the sick ass brother, nasty ass nigga A phony motherfucker grave digger I know this sounds rough, but I had enough to funk So part of me the heart of me So if you corny nigga, it's like clogging up my artery You cutting circulation, so now it's do or die While niggas always try to test my shit Only preservation of the funk is why I kick this As I give a simple diagnosis of the sickness [Verse 4: Breeze Brewin] Now upon the fruits of my labor, your ear feasts The beast from within, it's some shit, ain't it? The picture painted, from the use of a noun and a verb Might disturb; we make you say, "Damn that nigga's crazy" Well, if we crazed, deranged, well, then we fit in If you say the world's a normal place, who the fuck you kidding? Your mind's blind if you say you haven't seen this As I walk the fine line between insanity and genius [Interlude: *horns and scratches*] (*Fades out with piano*)