Metal Thangz

[Verse 1: O.C.] Yo Unfold remarkable soul, cold-blooded, bleeding Icicles equivalent to North Pole, roll El-Producto style, Buddha mindstate, but I don’t Smoke weed to proceed. Follow my lead I Rockwell when “Somebody’s Watching Me,” rhymes fine Like Denzel, having shorties all jocking me My poetry painting pictures—call me Picasso Not so fast. Put your microphone back in the stash. When I’m through Foes with hoes, take what fits. You ain’t worth What O.C. hold, dick made of gold. Soul- -controller, ruler of my dest’, all eyes on me Like a pair of thirty-eight double-D’s. Rest Assured, when I be on the mic, war, holding the goods Like you buying in the surplus store. You see? I brought it down a notch so you could understand O I’m smooth like a harp, you nothing but a banjo Advance yo’ tech-nine style? That shit is played out Run into the likes of a Mongo Slade. Uh! Fallout, the general be on command now At the quarter of the century, I’m the man, child. Fuc That Abbreviated F.T., soon to come, bust off We bust back, strapped, ready for war. What?!? [Hook: F.T. (AKA Fuc That)] (x2) Yo, when you Hear this shit, I bet your head’ll swing (What?!?) ‘cause this a ghetto thing Where we pack metal thangz just to settle thangz [Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch] Get your motherfucking orders of protection Emcees? No question See, I was raised in an ill drug section And it persuaded my poetical selections to be Hardcore Shit, I swore on my father’s grave I’d make slaves of niggas who played brave I craved to engrave my name inside of the pavement And my basement’s an arrangement of different torture devices That slices the first niggas who think they are the nicest My advice is to you: think twice The price to pay is your life, Jesus Christ I am the Pharoahe, the road I’m on is kind of narrow, plus there’s a fork in this shit, and I don’t know which way to go But these scriptures are sculptures For crews of dead rappers, the words hover above like vultures Vipers, I write the type of shit to make niggas incite race riots From the hate that white invited Sinister, when it’s the, time to finish the rhyme Watch the Minister climb up (Up), filling in the atmosphere Like cannabis, and if it’s activating me Believe I’m captivating heat plus I’m decapitating three emcees With my axe like thoraxes Practice, allows me to receive information like faxes—what?!? [Hook: F.T. (AKA Street Smartz)] (x2) Yo, when you Hear this shit, I bet your head’ll swing (What?!?) ‘cause this a ghetto thing Where we pack metal thangz just to settle thangz [Verse 3: F.T. (AKA Street Smartz)] Niggas, you better watch Your back. It takes concentration and confrontation So fuck conversating and contemplating Arms I’m breaking, spin a barrel wild like a carousel ‘Cause no emcees parallel, especially when I have an L These raps is meant to fear, yo, I’ma rip this sentence here My comprehension scares to leave you in intensive care Check my credentials with pen and pencils on instrumentals I’ll make your mental experimental Don’t be acting cockamamie, ‘cause niggas on my block is crazy Talking that rap shit, you couldn’t even rock a baby Bitch, I went out and bought a rifle (Why?) ‘cause F is more than trifle I’m sorta psycho like a retard on a motorcycle My mind changes when the time changes An emcee that ain’t saying shit might as well be rapping in sign language I get darkened eyes when I spark the lye Start stomping guys, have ‘em screaming, “Let’s compromise!” And love a fly brawl, so why stall? Keep looking at me I’ma spray some Lysol in your eyeball, nigga [Interlude: F.T. (AKA Fuc That)] Street Smartz affiliated [Hook: F.T. (AKA Fuc That)] (x4) Yo, when you Hear this shit, I bet your head’ll swing (What?!?) ‘cause this a ghetto thing Where we pack metal thangz just to settle thangz