Hungry

[Intro]

Yo, niggas don't want none of this

Niggas know they can't fuck with this

Turn this shit up just a little more

[Verse]

I walk the night in rhyming armor, bomb a nigga like a winter coat

Have him on Death Row searching for an Interscope

Yet I sparkle like Irene Cara

Symbolize dope like sirens do terror

Mary Lou just had a baby someone else decapitated

Flashbacks of past raps make me so glad I made it

Players is getting traded

I drop a gem on them whose style is jaded

My juice is grated

Shit is so banging niggas say it's gang-related

On philosopher's rink of thought, I've skated with precision

Crews is getting split like decisions

Com'a let it ride and collision

Vision like Coleco or Intelli', I battle stars in stellar

Regions, my thought scheme was my like my offspring

Now it's teething

My reason to rhyme applies to season and time

Seizing the mind, body and regions divine

In mom's cookouts, I'm leaving the swine

Verbal vegetarian, squash beef with Ice Cube

Came in this rap life nude

Now I'm fully clothed with flows

You tricks can't hide behind expensive cars and clothes

Old niggas I expose like Luke does hoes in videos

With classic material, imperial and rugged like

Got mag, but my slugs a mic

You fake like a smile, like a hug, I'm tight

Skip ladies, this is rip-a-motherfucker night

Auricle air-outs, niggas don't even run for cover right

Downtown, interracial lovers hold hands

I breathe heavy like an old man with a cold can of Old Style

Hold a Stone Isle profile

Mix between Malcolm X and Sef when I go wild

Hold mics like a second nut until the second coming

Hummin' comin' towards you with power like forwards do

Hip-hop, you my bitch and like a Ford, I'm exploring you

Some wack niggas be cool, with them, I stay cordial

Flow at room temperature, cats is presumed miniature

Like golf, soft like Tiger Woods

At real nigga angles, I've stood with ways that's geometric

Don't need to rob banks with dyke broads to set it

I levitate to the occasion, lounge like a lyricist

Rhyme-wise, you a rest haven

You sat by the door spooked like I was Wes Craven

You need to do more deleting and less savin'

A praise in hell, raising heaven as the bill on my pager leavens

What you should have known from day one you will on day seven

[Outro]

Yeah

Hungry hip-hop junkie in the city

Hungry hip-hop junkie in the city

Hungry hip-hop junkie in the city

In the city