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INTRO
Yeah, yeah D, what ya' sayin' bro?
what, slick, but no cigar,
yeah man, I'm gonna bang this in the car,
bang it in the bar, you know I'm sayin' star?
(laugh) what, what, yeah, what,
bluh, blaap...
VERSE ONE
They think they slick but no cigar,
chain smoking, leave ya brain open like a surgeon,
my verbalis style is kinda fly plus itâs tight,
so that's two types virgin, Iâm like a whirlwind,
annihilating bricks like the walls of Berlin,
we violate and kick like the cause of turbulence,
and Iâll pause my sermon
just to show you urban ain't some glamorized
MTV suburban,
where you close the curtains and your safetyâs certain,
not a hasty person,
Iâm two steps ahead of these snakey serpents,
Iâmma stay determined,
applying this pressure when Iâm playing
your version of Chinese Checkers,
yo this ainât the Plaza, this is Kingston, Cape Town,
borderline Gaza,
this is four Rasta's jumping out of a Mazda like the Mafia,
mi casa, su casa, now I got yaâ, bloodclart.
REFRAIN
Blaap, blaap, blaap, blaap,
you see that? Next round.
VERSE TWO
Pop goes the weasel, I donât fuck with these weasels,
Featherweights, but they thinking they great, they unbelievable,
they unconvincing, cockamamie and questionable,
they poisonous, gasoline, petrochemical,
hysterical, regrettable and one dimensional,
will never have me thinking that I canât be exceptional,
the beat making rhyme slaying, permanently violating,
sex-toy bass drum, itâs permanently vibrating,
live verbatim, don't censor my discussion,
keep it Orthodox Russian like the church out in Flushing,
take a dozen of your cousins and I crush emâ
like there wasnât repercussions
when Iâm brushing on these top boy productions,
I ain't anonymous, Iâm fucking autonomous,
and my self-confidence metropolis is bottomless,
And if you think Iâm sounding abusive,
catch me on the third verse when Iâll be back in like two ticks.
REFRAIN
Yeah, tell them what happens when the smoke clears up.
VERSE THREE
The smoke clears up and then a hand touches the mic,
the people see the face and the crowd delights,
they say âget emââ, so I go get em', Air Force,
stone denim shirt, denim jeans, you can still see the fold in emâ,
I speak words thatâll spray like petroleum,
so donât spark your lighter up on this podium,
Iâm from E.A.S.T.,
already told you Iâm a B.E.A.S.T.,
King of the Jungle,
Lion, so bring your Leopards and your Cheetahâs
and your Tigers and Hyenas, but you still canât beat us,
Iâm a King from the fetus until they put me on Venus
and blow it up into pieces and hand it over to Jesus,
so donât ever take my genius for weakness,
Iâll catch you on the strip at three like some Adidas,
ainât no conceited elitist,
I just made this Autonomous music cos people really need this.
And there you have it,
Funky DL, what,
Lenz, otherwise known as ESP The Overseer,
you get me?
Slick, but no cigar,
autonomy, you nah' I'm sayin',
yeah, yeah, yeah,
we're just vibes'in.
- Album:
- Marauding At Midnight A Tribute To The Sounds Of A Tribe...
- Le Emporium De Jazz Jazzstrumentals
- Autonomy: The 4th Quarter 2
- Classic Was The Day The Black
- Jazzmatic 2 [Nas Remixes]
- Jazzmatic [Nas Remixes]
- A Classic Example Of A...
- The 4th Quarter
- Best of... Artist Selection
- Hydeout Productions: First Collection
- Sublime 2
- When Love Is Breaking Down...
- Mellow Beats, Rhymes & Visions
- February: A Rest in Beats Tribute to the Sounds of J...
- February: A Rest in Beats Tribute to the Sounds of Nujabes
- First Collection
- Blackcurrent Jazz 2
- Ode to Nujabes
- The Jazzphonic Groove 1 (Funky DL Self Best Mix)