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hiphop rap underground nyc flip la p plus uncle scam clique
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It's never too late to waste a little time. This is mastabeta.
Honest rap. Anybody in a pink jumpsuit need not apply, unless of course you are man enough to wear it without checking with your friends every ten minutes. ------------------------------------------------- "A fine collection of bad dubs. I'm just glad it exists." -EPL
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #1,522
Peak in subgenre #149
Author
Mastabeta aka E.Lugo
Rights
1999 Zombiehead/Goodrobot
Uploaded
March 11, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.2 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Atomic evolution... the revolution's comin'... solutions are apparent in the Uncle Scam "sumthin" City blocks and sneakers... cell phones and beepers... The age of information and the information leakers Hudson River Monster... Airbourne and amphibious... Fragile young minds who find guidance in the hideous... We ride beyond the sunset and let the light take us... To a mindstate where no weight could ever break us... So let's assemble like the senate in a New York City minute... The world is in our hands and now it's up to us to spin it... From these humble beginnings to the altitude of planets... Settle up your winnings put them back into the granite... You can't understand it, but one day you will discover that it's time to take the underground and slip it in a rubber... cuz we're fuckin' with these chickens and disease ridden pidgeons, makin' gangstas out of babies that'll kill you where you're sittin'... And when your quittin' time arrives and your day is at a finish... You'll be thirstin' for a piece, don't give a fuck about an image... Instead of grabbin' guns and start playin' Mr. Tuffy...learnin' all your lessons from Kim, Fox, and Puffy... Some niggas never listen, though my words are well written... Generatin' such a heat that you could feel the air thicken... But of course we're only human and allowed a bad decision, but a long and winding road shouldn't throw us off the mission... We should have the vision and the strength to make it happen... The youth of today'll do it in a form of rappin'... I'll be tappin' at your psyche to open up your mind... and motioning the jury for a verdict on my rhyme... **The measure of my tape is crashin' through your borderlines** Blast-o-Rama...Hudson River Monster...walk these streets, handle the high C's like opera singers... My tape measure...I never had a gun, I'm #1 by middle finger** It's all good til a gun busts and the club is closed... Shit, I haven't been dancin' since I wore Girbauds... It's like we're livin' in a jungle... Quickly goin' under... Spaced out like lightning flashes that'll crash within the thunder You wonder why the summer brings the beast out of people... Crazy from the heat and runnin' streets with an evil... Probably under the influence of the latest mob flick... You need to lose the beer and get yourself a job quick... so Pardon me, it's just a hunch that we could work it out like crunch... Yo, I'll wear the wrong tie and still attend a powerlunch... Cuz these mental metaphysics spark the board and all it's members and their secretaries mark my street date in their agandas... Beta Masta Rapper in a complicated fashion... Take the matter in my own and give myself a night of passion... Let me take it back to basics, put it back where it belongs... Leave your brain flavor-basted from the juice within my songs... The youth are gettin' strong, but there's still a weak link... It's arriving in the form of the way we all think... The looting during blackouts...the living in a crackhouse... It's enough to make the most forgiving God start to pass out... Hookers stick their ass out... passing out diseases... then they have the gall when they're stuck to call for Jesus... Here in New York City when the rats outnumber humans... The sewars spit a steam from below the ground fusion... The Empire State and the statue in the Harbor... screamin' out my name to dirty up my white collar... Humidity is wack, but I stay cool from my inner by drinkin' my iced coffee the full length of the winter... **I AM THE CHUBBY BEHEMOTH... CAN'T LET OUR SPRITS GET BROKEN... DON'T WANNA BE THE VICTIMS WHEN THERE'S TWO BARRELS SMOKIN'... THE BLOOD OF NEW YORK CITY'S DILUTED WITH A POISON... DON'T KNOCK IT TIL YOU TRY IT CUZ IT'S WHAT WE ARE ENJOYIN' CAN'T LET OUR SPIRITS GET BROKEN DON'T WANNE BE THE VICTIMS WHEN THERE'S TWO BARRELS SMOKIN' THE BLOOD OF NEW YORK C
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