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Saber - Butta Flava
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The first song my brother recorded back in 95 I think. Ill flow. Mad beat.
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Instrumentals - Beats General
Previous peak charts position #4,497
Previous peak charts position in subgenre #1,425
Saber
Amanyyah Records
October 11, 2006
1 version uploaded:
MP3 3.8 MB  •  128 kbps bitrate  •  4:10 minutes
Lyrics
naturally I'm inclined so just recline mine is the microphone holding my own in the zone the lyrical Capone known to man as the grandmaster get your plaster and best be down for a blistering rhymes exquisite, what is it? shining like glycerin heard you were wishing came bearing gifts like it was Christmas leave your crew like a view of CNN on Waco Texas spit out flows like Tyson blows or a discus no stopping till we be rocking Jeeps, Land Cruisers and the Lexus the best of the rest in peace cause you brought em, I was on you might lose or get bruised with the bass tried to bounce with just an ounce plus you didn’t have the faith and couldn’t wait to exhale and breath your final breath touch and go is the situation of emcees when they step I be loose like baggy slacks mack the show but yo I don’t tell maximize the profits so the pockets could just swell the friction in my diction causes heat lights begin to dim cleaving with three seams and leaving emcees without limbs on their body, like Lodi Dodi came to trouble no one material that’s whole grain cereal giving it to the people and the masses be asking "who got the butta flavor?" its the major not minor hooded in their tracks for those who creep, read the timer it be on zero blow your ass to fragments, that’s for going out like a hero kicking game, not for the fame though I could tame or even maim this be all good when we be lounging still the same cause- sit back cause relax cause we be doing it just like this Girlies be flocking and clocking "who be this?" come on down, let me see you bear witness ready or not, here it comes drums and percussions giving concussions cause I'm bussing frames, as I gangway like a runaway train I'm dead on the money like Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes I'm the type to go extreme on the mic so don’t fight it, I spit out the remains of your wackness, try to sabotage I'm like a mirage once here, now gone I got my front and back so if you want to then lets get it on but don’t do this, cause my aura projects rhythm rap is something done, hip hop is what i'm living my production tramples with ample samples I don’t gamble cause that’s sinful attacking microphones like a blood fed pitbull the big chief bringing wreaths cause words kill when recorded just press playback and just lay back the snare has already been set I eject weak tapes, beats I break with vocal compression while vexing and try to swallow this you get indigestion I bring the aggression niggas be in a repressive state patch me in line its time to save the tape on TSR 8 now lets download as I explode giving you shrapnel wounds from the boom of my tune this be the party people's jam and also emcee's doom claiming you can hear it but its coming to you soon so sit back relax cause we be doing it just like this
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