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Soda
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Written in 1998. It's cool...I just remember the first time I heard this beat, I was like "Yo FLIP...Soda!"
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 #1,240
Peak in subgenre #118
Author
Mastabeta aka E.Lugo
Rights
1999 Zombiehead/Goodrobot
Uploaded
March 14, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.3 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Name: Mastabeta Age: 22 When I was a kid I found happiness in glue. A "run around" rascal with my nose in a book... impaling GI Joes on my dads fishhooks... I covered my ears when my mom used to scream...I wanted to be "Knight Rider" or a member of the "A Team", but it didn't happen...my birthdays neither...my sister had a fro...she's sufferin' from "night fever"...so it was back into the books, I sponged page after page...I couldn't wait til' I was that tender drinking age...speakin' on tender, my dick's the size of a beetles'...I'm thinkin' dirty thoughts like my dads favorite needle...("c'mere son...") Take a ride on my train of thought...distortion of a static...lit up my first Newport...and automatically became addicted.... "Why'd you call yourself Mastabeta?" ...because the name fitted. Used to pick my nose and wipe the snot all over my clothes...my nightlight was a "skullhead" that glowed...used to ride a skateboard and listen to punk rock...now I'm the only one who moved away from the block...One's a drug dealer...the other's paraplegic...one is my producer...and the other one's concieted...their memory's deleted so please be seated...as I take a stand...mastabeta "boy" turned mastabeta "man"... As a little kid I didn't think I was cuckoo...bouncin' down the lane, the same color as my Yoo-Hoo...got a bit older and a whole lot wiser...learned to burn slugs with a childproof lighter...never played "skelee" but I rolled my dice once...the very same day I got my first gold fronts...It was on the tenth month (that means October)...born on the 7th. when the 6th. was all over...shitted in my pants when I needed some attention so I tried to kill myself as I sat in my detention...I was swallowin' erasers and sniffin' mad glue...and now I emcee for the Uncle Scam Crew...FLIP slides through the wires that provide digital service...WELCOME TO THE LAND OF LOST HOPE AND STOLEN PURSES...and we're leavin' in the curses, because I've been accused of writing satanic verses...and I was born to lose... but I never had to wear the same shoes and socks...I paid my dues and I became EFROC...funny how things change a situation...a little stress turns me into "EFROCTAGON"...a smile on my face turns me into "ROCARIS"...but a MASTABETA is really what I is... When I give your girl a stare down I size up, fill my eyes up...something in my pants starts to rise up...TIME'S UP....WHAT??! I just got started...(of course I've got a napkin...do I look retarded?) I met a girl named "Amda" sometime last summer...told me I was cute and hit me off with her number....Mrs. # 1'er...a drop dead stunner...the ex girlfriend of a one hit wonder (she was just my type)...at least I believed it...and just a day later she acted conceited She said: "This romance, has ended" I paid no attention...I was scared she might spend it...That got her all heated, her voice was like thunder...screamin' on her celly for that one hit wonder...she said he made a rap song with RnB hooks...and when she gets up in his whip, all her homegirls look...so I stay underground where hip hop's appriciated...nothing that I say is fabricated or charaded...newly deficated, droppin' shit upon your mental...my style is known to be addictive like a bag of pretzels...recline, relax, see my flows as a bag of snacks...labels say I lack gorrilla skill and a mac...I don't like no party games so I'm glad I couldn't make it...and I don't feel your flow, so I'm not gonna fake it...see, my style is weird...I'm like the Overseer...hear me burp the planets when I drink galactic beer...tell me in my ear, how nice I truly be...and here's an autograph signed by capital E...
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