Intellectual Dons

(*B-Real sings the chorus on 11 seconds*) [Intro: Barron Ricks] What's up we gonna go down the line baby Brand new one from the Call O Da Wild Give big shouts to money makin Manhattan 145th street crews, 155th street crews All my niggas on the East Side We gonna flip the track baby, flip the script like this Big shouts to all the weed spots and all that who know how we do Chorus: (B-Real) Don't want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don't want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual trauma causing dons [Verse 1: Chic Moleek] Moon-Finger Willie slap hard, Moleeks Chic Spilling Barcadi on club seats Harps rub the DK-crease-NY's fully featured Harlem recriminate You dualistic heathens of the street, all malfunction cease Crews stand like mannequins sporting damaged Timb's Army caps or flat burns in self-discipline Insubordinate men of sin, few convinced they fit descriptions of movie men Experienced at heart with cinematographers having captured raw footage of this Mischievous black kid dipped in black hooches Ruthless, shot the car swindler Stupid used to pump Luther in ya cougar Now let the Call alter futures [Chorus] [Verse 2: Barron Ricks] B. Ricks stands synonymous to Cagney flicks And dime bags of Cambodian manifest the Buddha bless Impressively dressed, permanent quest for success Uninterested in materialistic games to get the sex The five six, a living portrait of survival tactics Keeping my enemies close and all my niggas at a distance What is this? Sheist characters spreading my business Fragments that can't manage to do damage Yo, I've had it Environmental pressure causing static In the fabric of this Asiatic cabbage It's madness on this uncivilized, thou with juveniles run these avenues Buckwild with crews now who is it? Makin all you critics fiend these lyrics It be the Call Yes y'all, coming through on your premise This is it [Chorus] [Interlude: Barron Ricks] KnowI'msayin? Big shouts to my St. Nick projects connection knowI'msayin? All my brothers on 113th & Lexington Ave knowI'msayin? Big shouts to the LES baby we see you [Verse 3: Chic Moleek] Put on stellar performances While niggas place bids at auto auctions Re-model frames and changing rusty engines According to my informants Fools wanna shorten my life and slice the vital organs It's not important towards this lyrical dissertation Tossing idols, cease recitals of bibles, breaking vinyl Finally spotting spirals, perhaps They spinning our wax on Ides Sport the blackest Gore's on elegant floors Strategic operations make em insecure Gypsy cabs are flagged on aves, DC that stamped them Ave breaking detours Affiliates with my predominately black landscape Hops in squad, I watch the sling shot from rotting up your pin spot Jostling, digging pockets, playing possum I got them on the X-ray fished, ain't nothing popping Volunteers who interfere in affairs, they disappear [Chorus] [Outro: Barron Ricks] Ah man that's the Call O' Da Wild flavor baby I can't take it no more I'm outta here baby But before we get up outta here, I wanna give big shouts to all the Buddha spots that made this possible Big shouts to the 99 cents store baby The discount health food store knowI'msayin? All my brothers on Lennox Ave with that good goodness Big shouts to the bodybag shop To all you other Buddha spots, all your Rasta crew with the incense Yeah we out baby Don't forget to flip this to the other side Get with that Call O' Da Wild baby, it's like that yeah