JEAN GRAE - BET Cypher 2012: The True School lyrics
rate me[Verse 1: Jean Grae]
2012, stop saying "femcee"
It's not a word, I'll hop the curb and hit you with my ten-speed
Bike spokes everywhere
Hi folks, I'm very rare
Veteran who's getting better every year
Sicker than Sloan Kettering, whole floors is lawless
Benevolent applause cause everything I'm spittin'; flawless
Praying so much my Spanish friends call me Lourdes
Quarter Loch Ness, 75% Chuck Norris
Incredible dominating performance
Every time, every line; flawless
Gabby Douglas, Dominque Dawes spit
Stickin' landings and the wit is just enormous
Your a Dick Santorum fan, I can afford to pause it
Come back on the fourth hit
Have dudes screamin' "Have you ever really loved me, Jeanie?"
Rat face, Stevie so at me, Jean Greasy
I'm bad
[Verse 2: Sarkodie]
Some of you MC's need to check up your flow at the Korle Bu hospital
Your punches are weak, your flows don't represent the streets
That's your only disease, Hip Hop refugees
Forget it, because when y'all deliver your flow
Then y'all turn out to be a laughing stock
The music business ain't by force
If you release 2 to 4 singles and you still don't break through
In the future when I am dead and gone
Y'all name a parking lot after me
I'm the rap supreme, I rap in different flavors
Lame rappers go to sleep cause y'all degrading the hip hop scene
So many MC's back in Africa making a perfect meal
But I'm the missing ingredient, call me the Irish cream
Give me a round of applause, cause I killed it
Rapperholic soldier
Obidi I tongue twist 24/7, I thought I told ya
They dig my policy, dig my legacy, dig my energy
Yes! Obidibiponbidi
What else?
[Verse 3: Ab-Soul]
I'm decent but I'm despicable
Spittin' the inexplicable
Pickin' sticks out the piccolo, tickle your brain ventricles
They finally let the nerd with the swag in
I was playin' the background like an adlib
But now I'm greedy like a fat kid
Old lady don't blow my high
Cause my pants hang low and you can't see my eyes
I get faded like Smokey but I'm crazy with the motif
Eatin' rappers, I need mo' teeth, you think I'm obese
Movin' with the movement, you don't need no lease
So fly, I don't need no feet, how I run it?
Keefin' up, when I'm coolin' with my young'ns
You know I keep it 3hunna
Can't take it lower, I used to loiter, these days I need a lawyer
Call your employer, tell him Soulo on the market
I love Indo but Do-Dawg love endorsements
I was never into Porches or Polo Horses
More like Nibiru's orbit, ascension in Pyramid coffins
It's safe to say I'm thinkin' in a major way
I reckon you take your exit and make your way out
Its my time, not Morris Day's now
The more the days go by, the more I'm reminded that I'm a titan
If there was ever, whats pressure to a diamond?
I'm the Haile Selassie of rhyming
Ab-Soul
[Verse 4: Talib Kweli]
You spit dummy, I get money like Clark Howard
BET, lemme show you black star power
It's funny they want me to spit
When really they never play me though
On the real, the alternative is what you hear on the radio
Fashion designer rappers
Wanna climb back inside of their Mama's vaginas
When passionate rhymers become reminders, son
You stay sleepin' on me, you soft the Satin pajamas, son
My hood is like the jungle with lions packin' the llama's
From Vandavere's to Gowanus, I'm so notorious
Fightin' my way back to Brooklyn like we the warriors
Right in your face, ain't no life line for you to call on
You simple like a pimple, you sort of an oxymoron
I'm graceful as Jordan with the fade-away
Write a passage as painful as circumcision with a razor blade
I stay open cause I'm better with words
I'm Frank Ocean at a Chik-Fil-A, I'll never get served
