Don't ask for a cig' - I'm so self-centered, I won't even share this cancer.
Now that Bin Laden dead, can we get our civil liberties back? That George Bush stole with the Patriot Act?
You only get honest expression when I spit in your ear; That means even when I'm dissing you I'm being sincere.
I'm like Demerol... No disrespect to the Jacksons, but I kill mics.
You need a bad operation. Gimme the scissors, hammer, flame.
Classical slap-stick rappers need Chapstick.
I got a voodoo doll every time I pen a verse: Not only do they say they feel it, but they say it hurts.
"I got niggaz lookin' for Websters like George Papadopolis'
Too bad your inner sheep never forgets to follow.
I don't wanna dance, baby girl, it's like my legs is on strike.
Rhyme to kill, rhyme to murder, rhyme to stomp, Rhyme to ill, rhyme to romp, Rhyme to smack, rhyme to shock, rhyme to roll, Rhyme to destroy anything, toy boy. On the microphone: I'm Poppa Large, big shot on the East Coast.
We was sneakin' in and it was general admission, Now we ownin' the arena and decidin' who allowed in it.
Day in and day out we do the same thing, Tryina find the joy in our repetition. Always complainin' about the routine and the mundane. But let me stop to remind y'all bout one thing: Come hell or high water you can count on the sun Always shinin' in its untamed glory.
I use a pick in my hair without force. You use a lawn mower-you got peat moss.
Yo, you 14-carat gold slum computer wizard, Tappin' inside my rap vein causes blizzards!
I seen her on the ave, spotted her more than once. Ass so fat that you could see it from the front.
I smoked with a lot of college students... Most of em wasn't graduatin, and they knew it.
I won't hesitate to detonate, I'm short fused.
The 808 kick drum makes the girlies get dumb, We're rollin' Rainier, and the jealous wanna get some. Every time we do the sucka MC's wanna battle, I'm the man they love to hate, the J.R. Ewing of Seattle.
You ask me, "Did I like Arsenio?" About as much as the Bicentennial.
Mindless violence, well let me try to paint it. Here's the 5 steps in hopes to explain it: 1, It's me and my Nation against the World 2, Then me and my Clan against the Nation 3, Then me and my Fam against the Clan 4, Then me and my Brother, we no hesitation Go against the Fam until they cave in 5, Now who's left in this deadly equation? That's right, it's me against my Brother Then we point a Kalashnikov And kill one another.
Move over just a bit to the right of me, For I cannot see Where the booty is.
Satisfaction, I have the right tactics... And if you need em I got crazy prophylactics.
You can hear the seven sins Blowin' through the ghetto wind.
I get physical, mystical, very artistical... Giving party people something funky to listen to.
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