All is vanity

[1.verse: Twisted Artistics] My man Deckdaddy's dropping them drums To hurt your abdominal ones Word to your mums Get your hands out 'your pockets or some' It 'a double the fun Twisted rhyme-pattern properly done Now get up and jump To this blend-vibe opposite from Cats talking as one Who recently stopped sucking his thumb I'm talking to young Cats all across the third rock from the sun From scarlets to nuns To you saints, to you prodigal sons Pump it up in the trunk Wether you're wealthy or stuck in the slums Think not that I'm one Of those punks who's pockets 'a run out When profit is gone From black-jack and bottles of rum Due to my pops and my mums I live life like the modest of monks Bigging up all the ones Holding me down when obstacles come Not up for no compromises these knockers don't want Your free markets, your cunning deceits we oughta cut out your tongues At the top of your lungs Ruffnecks set the riot off at these punks 'till apocalypse and beyond There just ain't no stopping this one [Hook: scratches by Deckdaddy] [2.verse:] Rocking it so opposite of all talk about automobils And other profitable topics that the market will Keep flashing 'till apocalypse kills All of them. Take heed in the words of King Solomon; "All is vanity" (I) refuse to be falling in line It's sickening to see how kids be spit-licking to get a bit of shine In stead of sticking to practicing hard and saying a better rhyme They got chicks up in their vids rubbing tits But we stay on some other-ish Twisted Artistics and Deckdaddy-selecta Spinning that renegade-vibe to interact with the mainstream X-ray-beam to the game (the) type to wake you up out of your daydream What I bargain my stardom to take part in Retarded guardian of the mic, burn emcees to carbon All Clark Kent 'till I'm on that stage Or I be chilling all night up in that Combat-cave With a stomach-ache from too much chocolate It's that paranoid gathering on hide out from the apocalypse [Hook] [3.verse: Blak Philly]