TOMMY TEE

TOMMY TEE - International Connects lyrics

rate me

(feat. El Da Sensai, Mike Zoot)

[Verse One: Mike Zoot]

Some fictions advice nigga, I'm nice to the letter

For better og worse I cross the finish line

And find the purse first

Born the Kapricon, hit it and form

And show my ways of the force

Oral, grab the cource

Crosses jaws to I use it up vocabullary

It takes half reception to magnify my very

Detailed mail delivered straight from the mouth piece

Shout out to the white niggaz who don't know about this

Super sub-urb my verbal calistetics is pathetic

MC, yo, a sinner, when I'm about to rap so ghettic

In ya head I whoop the story like the writer of a novel

Slip out the canned laugh, no time to agree the rubble

But instead I feed your head with the truth, no doubt

About low term confirm, no to make a mic burn

And since I'm Mike Zoot we get the looping dash

And with my ass and my rules, so long till last

[Chorus: x2]

We got the runs, rhymes, beats and all things

This in it Mike Zoot the ill shit we bring

It's like, that, this

Hit, we don't miss

BK, to the bricks on this Tommy Tee shit

[Verse Two: El Da Sensai]

You wanna beat us, a black kid

A baby born in scorn

Here's to all for the free

For all is joint in this sing along

To the king shit, legitimy

The harderst work in corners

I swear you want now, I don't know ways now

Take a chance and get on

As I storm boulevards

Run up and bomb rush for once plus

My tooth sence broken, talking clothes to back of the bus

Drugs and dirt water, see realness in my aura

Is ambitious, so I slash performer

This tracks make me wanna just smoke and get loose

Tip my cup ova a fruit drink, mix it with fruit juice

Mike Zoot the new weed guy, hypnotate a big fry

Do it, wanna sell you, I know you wanna see me die

Certainify, I'm hard, not stupid

You gettin' diplomatic, juice papers that's no approval

On a paper, type me a favour or pay the pager

Bills are cock trees and fill the refridgerator

Till later, like when it's done off

I wanna run off shittin'

On fake friends there are forgotten, bless the ones that didn't

They stay fresh on my mind, like the rhyme does written

A couple of bosses dropped out, now I'm ready for the kickin'

[Chorus: x2]

El Da Sen-Sen-Sensai, oh excuse me, my name's Mike Zoot, I'm from the 90s

El Da Sen-Sen-Sensai, my name's Mike Zoot, I'm from the 90s

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