Let me freak the funk Obsolete is the punk that talk more junk than Sanford sells I jet propel at a rate that complice their mental state As I invade their masquerade They couldn't fade with a clipper blade 10 years in the trade is not enough, you can't cut it I let you take a swing, and you bunted For an easy out, I leave MC's with doubt Of exceeding, my name is Bottie Brown and I'm proceeding, leading They try to follow but they're shallow and hollow I can see right through them like an empty 40 bottle, of O.E. They have no key, or no clue To the game at all, now they washed up Hung out to dry Standing looking stupid, wondering why (Why man?) It was the fame, that they tried to get Now they walking around talking about represent And keep it real, but I got to appeal 'Cause they existing in a fantasy when holding the steel Rock a bye baby Listen to my heart pumping to a fine ravine Of all things it's a vain of a shrine All missions impossible are possible 'Cause I'm heading for a new sector 365 days from now I'll wipe the sweat from my brow And each and every true will stick, or fall from the sky of my cloud nine From homies all the way to chics, no matter how fine Controlling is a swollen way to wreck a proud mind You hold it in your hands and watch a man start crying Tear after tear in the puppet man's hands Every time you take a stance you do the puppet man's dance And the worlds at a stand-still Deep in broken Mansville, trapped in the moat with an anvil Still killing yourself, and dogging ya health You ain't amphibious, so grab a hold of yourself © EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.; POLYGRAM INT'L MUSIC PUBG GROUP; E.P.H.C.Y. PUBLISHING; BEETJUNKEY MUSIC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com