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One boys broken rule
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mad references...
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 #1,916
Peak in subgenre #164
Author
Mastabeta aka E.Lugo
Rights
1999 Zombiehead/Goodrobot
Uploaded
March 17, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.5 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
In "7 Seconds" I'll be "Sick of it all"...."Dirty Rotten Imbecile", I spray my balls with Lysol...Tonights small cock is courtesy of Rocaris...but when I pull it out, y'all be ridin' it regardless...I'm a starvin' artist, "Exploited" and a "Misfit"...I couldn't draw a map to show the places where I've drifted...I sifted through the sugars of the sweet sand simplistic...Figured I was gifted, all the while gettin' lifted...I carry a "Sex Pistol", Iran Contra missles...a can of Kippered snacks and two bags of Skittles...Taste the rainbow and let your brains blow ho...cuz your lame flows all sound the same homo...it ain't even hip hop - it's MASTABETA music...beyond the melodies and beyond the diluted...my story is: The ocean, plus galactic tactic...I throw it and you catch it while I unlatch the hatchet...you could coat your mic in phosphorous and couldn't match it...piss in your ass and smack it in a motorcycle jacket...you're plastic...plastic material looks silly when compared to this...When I take a seat, I leave the board chairmanless...No more corporate meddling...I chart the stars like Magellan...to me, a FLIP beat is like a shot of special ketamine...Mental weapons steadily affecting...touching and infecting...each and every 5 borough section...I'm long range, deranged and remain unchanged...when I get sent to hell, I'll use my rhyme book to fan flames...I plan to reign and turn my body into droplets...melting villagers who look to me as their prophet...I ain't a God, but I'm worse than a "Minor Threat"...I'll cut off your wifes head, good luck finding it... Now do you really give a fuck if I really live or die? In bitterworld I'm an artist capturing a starless sky...Let the horns blow...and conjure up the sickest evils...we could fight like tree people to see who gets the thickest beetle...No ticker-tape...because I'm obviously hated...I'm made of hand grenades and I need to be "Sedated"...beaming back to the 60's to smoke grass with the hippies...let the LSD hit me til' I'm "bugged out" like "Tricky"...Fuck a 40...with your bitch I'll drink a fifty...get her ripped and leave her shirt torn off like "Bill Bixby"... make her toes curl and slip her homegirl a mickey...MASTABETA comes correct and leaves the mic sticky...went back to the weed spot, got shot by two cops with new glocks...the bullets just bounced off my boombox...I fell down...and stuck my hands into my tube socks...started twitching...cuz I was itching from the small pox...I write grafitti: Burner, piece ,or tagged initials...I launch a rhyme from a shoulder bag of stolen missiles...I hold two pistols on backs of bicycles...I'm the "err" in how you manage...damage your eye tissue...y'all can't see me...I'll hit you with a freebie...tell your girl that there's a free douche on the back of every cd...end the bloody drippin'...end the ego trippin'...honeys call me dumb, I always cum in what they're sippin'...you know I'm never missin'...always on a mission cuz I spit that money shot and fuck the mic in all positions... I wanna be trendy, but can't afford the Fendi...I can't have the cash to pull out like a "Bensi"... I wish GOD would send me a sign or just end me...until then...catch me buying "Phillies" at the deli...
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