Now see, maybe if your tag was dope
|
I'd actually lend a little credibility to your statements
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But honestly, your penmanship's fucked
|
The way I see it, someone should at least slap you for even holding a marker
|
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I hope the kid who wrote my name in the entry bathroom
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Has the nuts and time for us to sit and chat soon
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So I can ask 'em "Why the fuck am I on your mind bitch?"
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You could've signed it, but stayed silent cause you're spineless
|
If you was a man, you'd come at me on the mic level
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But you're light yellow just like the walls on which you write fellow
|
When I first viewed it, I'll admit it had me quite pissed
|
But now I've accepted it, in fact I kind of like this
|
I really wish I knew your identity
|
Probably not even an emcee, just another who pretends to be
|
Or maybe the jealousy of one who's baby-baby has eyes for me
|
It's nineteen-ninety-sev', nothing surprises me
|
Envy can make a motherfucker immature
|
So can boredom, a buzz or the curse of being insecure
|
C'mon now, some little trick with a marker and a chip
|
on his shoulder don't mean shit, I want the world in my grip
|
I bet your girl's on my dick, she digs the skills
|
She's a bigger head than you, so give me head and head for the hills
|
Little bitch, donkey dick sucking ass-fuck
|
Glue sniffing, half a testicle base head selling plasma
|
Publicity, good or bad, the same to an emcee
|
I think I found your limits to fame over on Seventh Street
|
I dedicate my name to those who view me as an enemy
|
and I'ma mark the planet for every mark in the entry
|
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Entry, enter me
|
What's funny about the whole shit
|
is that like two, maybe three years from now
|
You little cockroaches that talk shit about me and my crew
|
are gonna be thanking us for kicking down the door
|
and putting this shit on the globe
|
Britches, y'all wanna burn bridges?
|
Just remember in the back of your bitch mind that I'm partially responsible
|
for anyone tryna hear your wack ass to begin with
|
And to that child who writes about me in the Seventh Street bathroom
|
Thanks for buying our tapes, you can size me up
|
and I hope your first born never learns how to read
|
Sincerely Slug, Atmosphere
|
A subdivision of Rhymesayers Entertainment motherfucker
|
|
Enter me, study me, cause I know that you know that
|
(Eventually, suddenly) Size me up
|
Enter me, study me, cause I know that you know that
|
(Eventually, suddenly) Size me up
|
Enter me, study me, cause I know that you know that
|
(Eventually, suddenly) Size me up
|
Enter me, study me, cause I know that you know that
|
(Eventually, suddenly)
|
(Eventually, you will suddenly see a fist to your jaw, a clap in that ass)
|
|
-----------------
|
7th St. Entry
|
| Atmosphere |
