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(Bootie Brown)
Let me freak da funk Obsolete is da punk
That talks more funk than Stanford sells
I jet propel at a rate that complicate
Their mental state as I invade their masquerade
They couldn't fade with a clipper blade
Ten years in a trade is not enough you can't cut it
I let you take a swing and you bunted for an easy out
I leave M.C.'s with doubt of exceeding
My name is Bootie Brown and I'm proceeding leading
They try to follow...
But they're shallow and hallow
I can see right trough them
Like an empty 40 bottle O.E. they have no key or
No clue to the game at all
Now they're washed up/hung out to dry
Standing there looking stupid wondering why...
I was the fame that they try to get
Now they're walking round taking 'bout represent
And keep it real But I got to appeal
Cause they're existin in a fantasy
...when ...holding the steal.

(Slim Kid)
Rock-a-bye baby listen to my heart beat pumpin
To a fine ravine of all things it's a vain of a shrine
All misions impossible are possible cause I'm
Headed for a new sector three-sixty-five days from now
I'll wipe the sweat from my eye and each and every true
Will stick or fall from the sky of my cloud nine
From homies all the way to chicks no matter how fine
Controlling is a swollen way to wreck a proud mind
Here told it in ya hands and watch a man start crying
Tear after tear in the puppet man's hands
Everytime you take a stance you do the puppet man's dance
And the world's at a stand still deep in a mansville
Trapped in the moat with anvil still killing ya self
And doggin ya health you ain't amphitious so grab
A hold of yourself

(Krumbscull #1)
Sh-sh-shit is ill but trough my will
My flow still will spill "toxic slick"
To shock your sick like electrocute
When I execute actuely over the rythm
On those that pollute "extra dosages"
Is what I gotta give 'em I got them and tremblin
Cuz I been up in my "lab assembling"
Missles to bomb the enemy because they envy me
And the making of mad currency, currently
I think we're of a state of an emergency
Cuz niggas done "sold their souls"
And now their souls is "hollow"
And I think they can't follow they can't swallow
The truth because it hurts this is how I put it down
This is my earth my turf the worth of my birth is
A billion and you know what time is it
I'm gonna make a million
Frederick Waite Jr. verstorben
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Frederick Waite Jr. verstorben
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The Pharcyde - Drop
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