Get yourself together now because it's hit time
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Your known as the hit makers
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Record breakers, party makers
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They'll make your back crack, your liver quiver
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For all you cats, they bound to more dips in your hips
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More cut in your strut, more glide in your stride
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If you don't dig that you gotta hole in your soul
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If you don't dig this mess, you came to the wrong address
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They gon' sing mighty loud and clear
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[Brother Ali:]
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Ayo, the music made em jump back
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Fuck that, how y'all gonna come track somethin fat, without lettin Ali touch that
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Nothin' wack leaves his lips
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You're not serious, I got few equals and no superiors (so here he is)
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A seasoned veteran, an ego wreckin'
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I turn it up another notch to keep the people guessin
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Y'all ain't fuckin with the ox so quit your feeble session
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Double teamin for the evening, so you heed the lessons
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Sluggo
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[Slug:]
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Here we go
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Lookin at me like they know me
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Only bout as far as they drunk ass can throw me
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Do it, somebody's bound to catch it, no breakage
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Never that, we keep it basic like breakfast
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So taste it, the vitamins are subtle
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So tighten up to Sluggo, even try to decipher the puzzle
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But shut up though
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(Fuck that, sucka jump back)
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I hold the game like Notre Dame, I know your dame
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(We Call her hunch back), Ali run that
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[Brother Ali:]
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From cats lips to gods ears
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We Line ya'll punk bastards in crosshairs
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Applying our thug tactics till y'all scared
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Don't stop till your drunk ass hits the back stairs (ohh yeah)
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[Slug:]
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Fuck that, jump back, yo, what's that
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Drippin off her nuts, wait, why she got a nut sack?
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You fuckin rappers are she-males
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From the retail to the e-mail, the defeat felt because you need help
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[Chorus: x2]
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Y'all need to watch and observe and then follow
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If we open for y'all it's still our show
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I hear the same bullshit wherever I go
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Like Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah
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[Brother Ali (Slug):]
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(Rappers steppin tight)
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Yeah they get they shit spun
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I throw a roll of quarters and cyphers and then I hit one
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(Yo I don't care were you represent son, where's your chicks?)
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We'll take her out for breakfast if you want to let your lips run
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[Slug:]
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Listen, I know your mission, some type of magician that likes to go fishin
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On the mic with air tight precision, the leaders keeping tradition
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When you ain't even keeping the rhythm that the DJ is spinnin
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Calm down little campers, I've got the answers
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You should fuck exotic dancers
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You should grow a pair of tits and some antlers
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It doesn't matter turn it up, what the fuck you think that amps for?
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[Brother Ali:]
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I write poems, write rhymes, write my name in the snow
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And I could use all of that to bend the frame of your hoe
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And I should, but instead I'll just pay the waiter and go
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But if I didn't have a wife, yo your kids would be albinos
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Your respect is like a stick in the grass
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Mean mugs and tree hugs, I'll go on without it
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I wear my toilet paper so that y'all can kiss my ass
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With your tongue out and write a love song about it
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[Slug:]
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Write that shit inside of your book full of funny little scribbles
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The love comes in vomit, the money comes in dribbles
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The Minnesota missiles, self taught
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Communication, mutilation, holding pictures of your sister naked
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[Brother Ali:]
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Ha ha, You to drunk to walk down the stairs
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And know you standing here choking on my pubic hairs
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Telling me your name is if you think the brother cares
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If you keep bumping your gums than we can fuckin' take it there
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[Slug (Brother Ali):]
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I make a room full of punk rocks stop and do the walk
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(Wrestle shots from a cop and ask him who's your pops)
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Who's you daddy, Fuck that, Jump back and act happy
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(Sing my fuckin' chorus fore I punch you in yo face)
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[Chorus x2]
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-----------------
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Blah Blah Blah
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| Brother Ali |
