Forty Bar Blow Out

DustySkidz

How many wack Mc's who be tripping wanna get their neck broke?
How many wack Mc's who think they spitting don't see that they blatantly jokes?
I dunno, can't be certain and I can't be exact,
Got heat for the the world, stack my keys tightly packed

I'll rightly sack quarterbacks for the fact that they lack,
Skills to move up the field, skills to move past the back
I'm on my jack, all alone as I enter the zone,
I enter like a dragon tryin to take Bruce Lee's throne

Bruce Lee's gone, I don't care because I never met him,
People jumping on bandwagons, need a change to the setting,
The dead ain't always good, tell the truth if you hate them,
I'm sitting on the sidelines and I'm still patiently waiting

Til the beacon is lit and on display, then I'll be patiently waiting,
Ain't got love for my critics because they blatantly hating me,
Don't care if they ain't rating me, don't want them to like me,
I keep the crowd pumped, keep them pumped on the nightly

Me Almighty, it ain't Bruce, DS stick to the truth,
I guarantee that you'll be fly when I make you fly off a roof,
Drink Vermouth, drink Martini, never shaken, I stir,
Stay smooth like a girl after trimming muff fur

Hear me grrrr like a pitbull, the mad pitfalls of death,
Is what waste Mc's will be facing soon if they wanna test,
This literary prose, I'm fine funky and fresh,
I suppose it's all good but really they ain't no contest

So unless you got subject matter I ain't bumping your s'hit,
I've had enough of the liars and bling bling f'uckwits,
Are they thick? Do they realise that they choking Hip Hop?
Choking it like it's toking on opium, crystal meth and crack rocks

I wanna beat them down like I'm Ike, the Source'll give me five mics,
But of course I keep it real and the rest is fake types,
So if you eighteen and you live in the suburbs of town,
What have you seen? How do you know what goes down?

Turn it around, flip reverse, you don't have to be thuggish,
I turn down the sound when I hear all the rubbish,
If you lived it then say it, If you ain't, shut ya mouth,
Pump your fist so I can see you agree and feel what I'm talking about

Got more bars than Ibiza, I ain't rapping, I'm ripping,
Feel like Johnny Rotten 'cos no matter what I do, I keep spitting,
My sex pistol will enlist all the girlies, i insist there's no hoes,
Get 'em hot in their spot, they got no resistance, no clothes

My insistence for prose provides existence of rhymes,
Existence of multi's, instrumentals, fat basslines and fat rhymes,
Line for line, rhyme and reason and it don't matter what season,
If I didn't have rap to turn to I don't know what the f'uck I would do

I wouldn't be rapping on bar 22,
I couldn't be happy, I have got to pay my respects,
To the architects, like Bambataa, LL and Cool Herc,
Slick Rick, I be like Gang Starr cos I'm putting in work

Cool Moe Dee, Jungle Brothers, EPMD,
KRS, Dougie Fresh, PE, Busy Bee,
It may all be old but whipper snapper MC's,
Shouldn't think it don't matter, because the 1980's

Provided the framework for Hip Hop today,
Without NWA, would there be Dr Dre?
Without Dr Dre would there be Slim Shady?
Without Slim Shady would there be 50 Cent?

If you say you hate old school, then straight up you'd better repent,
I'll expose you all like Marylin when she stepped on that vent,
You don't understand the fools that you is, and this s'hit ain't show biz,
Making money is a bonus, but to define Hip Hop is,

To explain that it's like a workout for your head, it's exercising your brain,
Things are looking down looking bad so now I hope for a change,
Even DMX is selling out, once he was labelled the saviour,
I used like him but now he displays too much commercial behaviour

Please do me a favour, all the sell outs out there,
Don't call it Hip Hop, call it Pop, Motherf'ucker, please don't compare
or catergorize you fluffy rhymes to the real definition of Rap,
Because that's just a fabrication, if I had to name it, it's crap

It's these wack MC's and DJ's who give the game a bad name,
I'll make a point like steeple, THESE TWO THINGS AIN'T THE SAME!!
Cos if you had mixtape and it was labelled Hip Hop,
Would you put on Watch Out Now or Jenny From The Block?

Generally the plot to kill Hip Hop is going well and succeeding,
It's on the floor, the wound is steaming, Hip Hop's dying and bleeding,
I know it seems I'm giving lectures but I object cos I'm p'issed,
The real meaning being hidden like Gorillas In The Mist

40 bars in one spit, break it down, that's five verses,
I'm feeling what I'm rhyming so I won't need to rehearse this,
Record Execs and fakers steal my music like purses,
I spit to make difference, but I gotta ask, is it worth it?