Sahara? zombie Yeah?
For
all those affiliated Yeah
yeah [Tame
One] Word
is bond my songs ain't wack and, any n anusWho
thinks that they, must can't rap and, can't get that I
got dues with receipts peeps, who make mad beats So
if you get souped I, add beef Commander
in Chief of the belief fonta leafs burn slower The
end knot mixin E&J with soda keeps me geeked up So
if you got weed then speak up So
I can twist up and leave you with that s titin tea cups We
bust the raps that matter while, you battle Your
own boys just, to check to see who's fatter I
put it together like Mcgyver bombin, your rhyme cypher Helpin
to represent funk like diapers I'm
one of them prime time rhymes without rotation But
I'm patient cause, Tame One don't owe no station nathan I'd
rather hide my tape collection like I'm Nixon Watergate
nine-six in effect the, deck's missin Chorus
El: Da Sensai Crews
get taken out quick who's, the best Tame
and mc El bringin lyrics to ya chest one, two (repeat
2X) [El
Da Sensai] One
two Artifacts, nine-six, My
forms patterns, some, might think it's arrogant I'm
transparent but, with lyrics it's apparent That
I be the greater rhyme stater with the data Saturn
Sega player, wack, n anushater Instant
flow like, five minute grits flips To
rock for the Jack's haps be on some other s titUncover
skits like a private d k**hits From
all different directions chop, you into sections Like
a jigsaw s, titbe raw rock, for alla y'all tall Raps
and, brawls touch, all jaws With
the gall foot, in the mix like Hammer grammar forms Check
the track flip, the song Hits From the Bong wrong, Side
bumpin in your ride Graffitism
tokin ism gaggin off the lyrical jism New
Jersey native creative, with the sorts B-boy
wishin for battles check the injury reports But
there are no flaws in this rap lord's rest Open
wide ni z***we, bring it to ya chest Chorus
