Lyrics
The gift of gab ive got it on lock
So grab a bag while theres plenty in stock
As I rock a hot drop on the m-I-c
U couldn’t fuck wit this even wit Vaseline
Now ur stuck wit this irish emcee
Who considers himself master of the ceremony
Im not a phony im the one and only….Twoshea
I collect plenty of “collateral” like “Jamie Foxx or Ray”
I shake the earth when I rehearse extraordinary rhymes
To blow ur mind in time wit an orderly shine
Wit a monosyllabic tone I’m ridiculous on the microphone
This freestyle came off the top of my dome
don’t change the dial cos I sound monotone
Or you’ll get hung up like an unanswered phone
Im hard white, and “humorous” like a “funny” bone
The only chrome I carry is in the form of a mic
When I hype under the light-so tight- I just might
Squeez emcees to death with constricting rhymes
With lines that shatter spines, tangle ‘em like twine
I intertwine my verses to “stir fry” ya noodle
Cos I bake fresh emcees like apple struddle!!
I doodle words, I spit concrete verbs, now ur bitin the kerb
I keep in thyme like the herb
When I rap verses on beats, burnin shit like moskeet
Rappers grittin their teeth, fuckin flapping their gums
Cos they keep talkin shit about ice and guns
Cos really they aint fuckin wit shit like a cluster of nuns
