Lyric Fathom

(Gift Of Gab):

Rappers step to me like I'm a doormat

Check the format, I pour raps

Not your average everyday hardcore act actin'

I'm like a mac 10, a uzi and a AK-47

Rollin' with crazy kids like Bebe

Mayday mayday, I used to listen to KDAY in my heydays

I ride the bus with a dream of one day lampin' inside of a Mercedes

Benz with sheepskin interior

And two fifteens, and to rip means to get creamed

I'm large as a hippopotamus, trip, I gotta dis

Sip a bottomless cup of brew and I'm getting raw to this

If a rapper tries to step, I rip and slaughter his ass

Some ****, he oughta just swallow his pride and get to following this

I'm marvelous like Marvin Haggler in his prime

I carve kids like a dagger with my mind

I start **** with rappers who can't rhyme

I spark spliffs cuz I don't stagger when I'm high

But when I'm drunk I do, punk I do not acknowledge wackness

I gotcha grandma doin' backflips and tumbles

I rumble through the jungle with Ollie and Frasier

Call me the savior of hip hop

I rip shop and get my proppers

Come get with this ak, my style is akwards

I never mock words, I talk towards the inner city youth

Revealing it, the truth

I'm feeling that the proof is in the pudding

I put men that would end hip hop in my shop and I torture

Chorus:

Check out my lyric fathom

Check it brothers, really, check it out

(Gift Of Gab):

As I walk through the jungle with a knife on my ankle

Taking lives, skip will shank you lyrically

Apparently ****** wanna sleep still

Keep still, I'm packin' the a heap of skills

I'm rhyming to keep an ill mind, Saddam type ****

Your arm might get snapped like a twig

Rap like a nig-gero possessed thorough

The astonishing mission, dishing pain

Fishing in brains, plain lynching ****** *****in'

So take a ride, I'd abide by my rules

Cuz fools I had duels with, I left them in the pool pit, I rule kids

I'm a kamikaze bomb, drop a ***** with an arsenal of drama in my rhymes

With the tracks and backs and heads is broken to pieces

Rapture's phat, ya dead, ya croaked

I wrote this piece as just a little dedication

to the rappers on the other level

Budded out and looking into space, a new frontier

And I can probably bet cha that we got anything you want here

Cuz punk, we're the crew that make you cheer

The two that make you fear and send you back to the rear

We're here

CHORUS

(Gift Of Gab):

I flip and I rip ****

I whip and I dip ****

With the lyrical form, I did kick it slick

I'm gifted, I'm ripping a nitwit to shreds

Get the Feds to arrest me for slaughtering emcees

That's right, on my testicles

Come get a little array of the skill supreme

Wanna defeat me? My *****, you should kill the dream

The noise, the boys, the count, everybody

When I drop fat styles that ain't your simple blahzay blah

Lodi Dodi average Joe Simpleton with a average flow

Have to go after you jugular

Then **** gets uglier

Man I hope you take heed

I'm making brain cells bleed in excess amount of hemoglobin

I rap, yes I'm out to see you bobbin' ya noggin'

I've been gobblin' ****** talkin' **** like Hagen-Daas

Stompin' ‘em, mobbin' with the ill ass skill as seen

On individuals who fiend for the real ****