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[Buddha Monk]
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Get off my mother fuckin life!
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[Poppa Chief of Zu Ninjaz]
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Yo, yo, this some Zu shit!
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Yo, ugh! I know you want it, and I wanna give it. AH!
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[Chorus x2: Poppa Chief of Zu Ninjaz]
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I got this proposal I'ma slide across the table
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Mansions, cars, horses, stables
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Stocks and bonds, CDs and T-bills
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This time around, Zu strictly frills!
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[Buddha Monk]
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Yo, you act like the sun don't shine
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Then I decline and make that ass dumb, deaf and blind
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Watch this spittin logic, just aimin at yo' noggen
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Mind-bogglin, and damn right the Zu will smash somethin
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This verbal technique will soon be heard on every street
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Just watch yo' peeps and watch sure you niggaz don't sleep
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We defy the laws of gravity and burn thru yo' anatomy
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Watch us work this *echos*
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Three-hundred and forty pounds, this God will get down
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with verbal smacks, bustin gats, jiggin nines in yo' backs
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I don't play that, my silver spoon was bent way back
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Hate to say that, but that's the way it is when you black
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Not prejudice, but stay far away from six
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and I won't give even if my balls gets bit
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Stay reclined, never swine, twist the eighty-five wives
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We can wine, to make this station all one mind
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[Chorus x2]
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[Buddha Monk]
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Warn this, awareness, I come like a terrorist
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Enter the bloodstream, beware, can you handle this?
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Disasterous, it is I, the one Lord and Master
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The Buddha's weight is made with gats and gun silencers
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Powerful thoughts increase, as I release
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the knowledge on my brain, and it's wicked like ten beasts
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It is not The Who, it's the old Brooklyn Zu
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Styles get raw like a Freakland Zoo
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Fix this, flows drillin in the banquet
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Buddha inflicts the hoes like Bake's existence
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I remain to cause pain, dirty words and slang
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Yo, you fuck with the Zu chain, ya headed for a headbang
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Walk down my path, ya head is what I'm after
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Save all those jokes and rhymes, no time for laughter
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[Chorus x2]
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[Buddha Monk]
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I warnin this to mind delinquents, with rap flows I speak frequent
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Ya body's cold niggaz and ya mind tolerance is low
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I like Brooklyn Zu done sole, first nigga thrown out the window
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Damn, thrity-two degrees below zero and it feels like a cold war
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There's never more gun totin, ha, backyard tree smokin
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The haren with tote nose, with love at first sight, eludin
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Bit pressure tester, yea, Zu mind collector
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Close your mind like Chester's so your body gets light like feathers
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Whatever, you think Zu disappear niggaz?! Ha, never!
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I'm like a cold mind with head lice, yo, diggin in ya sector
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I'm afraid for ya, we spread like the germ Gonarhea
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Fuck all you mamami's with no trace of pupmed water, see us
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In God we shall trust, grafted skin we never touched
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Flows like black dust, now think about God bust
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*sizzlin sound*
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(Oh, what a rush!)
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-----------------
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No Frills
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Buddha Monk |