|
?Sahara zombie?
|
Yeah
|
For all those affiliated
|
Yeah yeah
|
[Tame One]
|
Word is bond my songs ain't wack, and any nigga
|
who 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 shit in 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 nigga hater
|
Instant flow, like five minute grits flips
|
To rock for the Jack's haps be on some other shit
|
Uncover skits like a private dick hits
|
From all different directions, chop you into sections
|
like a jigsaw, shit be 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 niggaz, we bring it to ya chest
|
Chorus
|
|
|
-----------------
|
to ya chest
|
| artifacts |
