International Playboy

[Verse 1: Dice Raw] I catch them off guard, then tell them en-garde Mr. Vanguard, new version of hip-hop's God Messiah -- no higher, no flyer Gold miner, like one of them dusty ass old timers A hill climber with a stake in Mt. Everest Cause I'm forever fresh, yeah, I'm forever death And ya'll forever slept, on death's doorstep But last night I'll tell you where your whore slept In a house, with me, inside of an old portrait With an old lady that be sitting on the porch with A shotgun, and pitcher of lemonade A picture of Christ, but I can't drink my sins away Cause I could make a dollar a hundred different ways Close a client, or I can throw on a gorilla's face But I'm a doctor that talks with a scalpel Scrapple, across your motherfuckers adams apple It's like my heart's been replaced with an engine And my driveway repaved with religion And each stone is worth it's weight in gold We breaking down the barriers and all the sound codes But I'm staying true to the 'G' code Jam Boys put aside all the egos That's why we putting up freethrows And blowing weed smoke on a speed boat Shit, I drive around in a stupid coupe And all the girls they be saying I'm stupid cute Niggas mad, because I got stupid loot But if you feel lucky go ahead, stupid, shoot But you really stupid if you think I'd stoop Down to your level, third step from the stoop I'm like a hundred floors up from the roof Looking down about to let that motherfucker loose [Break] It's the last of the ?? International playboy It's the last [Verse 2: P.O.R.N.] See, I smoke the smoke, tell me and my folks is broke Get it back on some okie-doke, fuck around gotta choke a bloke Wanna dance, we can dosado Uhoh, you know, when it's on, it's on And at night poppy on his jawn Got a fifth of some kerosine, got an ounce of [heroline?] Knock me right on my dean Knock dimes right off they horse Like I knock the ash off my ports, when I kick mommy off my porch Ill, baby I ain't right, still call me for the iron pipe Still fly for my invite, strung out like flying kites Don't take my advice, I'm cut from a dirty rag My mind is a dirty mag, [and body weight is 30 tag?] Plottin' on some cheese, you soft, don't make me squeeze Your air don't make me breathe, your scratch might make me itch Got a fix that can't be fixed Got a mouth that can't be doused Got a stroll that can't be told When and where to get off the road It ain't hard to sell when your file ain't hard to smell Tell Nas, it ain't hard to tell Who saved who god from hell Who Smurf, who Gargamel And the grass straight out of the bag I'm a nail until I catch a snag, that means call me a cab Baby girl, I'm out -- paper boy on his paper route Floating on a cloud, outta' my mouth Plus a little bit of magic dust Fuck you, you don't fuck with us [Break] [Verse 3: Truck North] Got my mind on mission --- money on time Knives in the kitchen, dishes so high Them girls outside waiting for him to arrive Something like a pimp, yeah, nigga [I try?] Hunting Park hit him now he walk lop-side Put him in the trunk, take him over bridges like tide A different stroke, but they say it's so odd Put a little paint where it ain't, my lord My job is harder, nigga, I'll martyr Any sucka lost in the sauce, no tartar Work like a mule, but the loot work smarter And Jam Boy's son niggas like a stepfather I'm the godfather, waiting on the God hour Power make niggas clam up like chowder Boys of the dollar, grip me up by the collar Take a chunk out your flesh like a rottweiler And I'm top shotta, yeah, top chef Top down with your best bitch topless And I confess, this the best none less Vampires are for blood, straight cravin' like Wes Laugh last laugh hardest, laughing all the way to the mo'-fucking coffin I don't need a target, nigga, I'm a marksman Taking out marks, and whoever want to talk it Barkin' louder than than the bite is And I'm a flight risk Broke the mold when they made a nigga like this So now you left with the end result And the Jam'll give it to you like however you want Sucka, live from gangland, it ain't the same fam Sniff a blitz, audible; change the game plan [Break] [Verse 4: Black Thought] I'm so fresh, ready on the left The flow so tight, ready on the right Machete on the mic, you could bet it on your wife The black mack the knife, bet it on your life The Jam Boys' re-in' up every other night We heavy on the hip, niggas heavy on a hype I mean, look at ya'll clones, everyone alike And look at ya'll barcodes, everyone a stripe The track give chase like Chevy, when I snipe like Wes Right through your tight vest, and stop and take time So ya'll can digest this thing, we began and watch the progress Composed of obsess[?], I acquire objects I acquire mad chicks, that admire my checks They be knowing 'Riq Gees is now, and not next So we can smoke trees, and clown and pop vex Known for hot sex, and getting them topless I'm heavy on the beat like Eddie on the F I'm a gourmet chef, you can smell it on my breath [Verse 5: STS] Yep, niggas know about me, I'm already in the deck I'm a south side nigga, push a Chevy to the depth Purple labels on my neck, my finest [betty?] on my left I know she want to spend the night, I just want to spend the ['F'?] It's the poster boy for players, ya'll might want to send a rep Flow official, like the ref, I'm to the whistle on the chest You a pistol in the pocket, I'm a missile in the jet This is definitely a threat, sweat trickle on your neck Talking legendary status, whenever J-B connect Check the Louie on my step, I roll a doobie up [I take a two-ie from a groupie?], [yo, a booty in the set?] Call me Sugar, to the T-S, all about the G-S [Stop quotes, post route] [.....]