I'm not mad at all. I'm just... taking my pent up frustration
for rap and throwing it at a wall, like I had a ball.
Feeling like Michael Jackson in this bitch; grab my balls.
If I had to ring it in? Believe me, I'd be to last to call.
But that's before. Tattered clothing, looking battered in war.
Stick a javelin through the adamantium claw of Wolverine
and watch Magneto stand in applaud...
I'm only a fan of the raw, unadulterated scholars
who use to spit on live stages and bust...
in front of audiences who craved it enough to make it
such a significant time in those days. I'm talking Scribble Jam.
But the evolution took it up to a bigger stand.
Figured they'd trigger plans to expand what we celebrated in levels, mate. It's... astounding.
Now fast forward it. Cash rules in rap offices.
The platinum certifications are like track scholarships.
Not hating or nothing, or making assumptions
I'm taking this once, glorious endeavor, to serenade it with substance.
You fruits? won't mix me up. You can take your high
fructose establishment, in stick it inside of a Dixie cup.
Cause this is what... I'm talking about...
Christopher unsure of his career, just Walken in doubt...
taking every obstacle out
of the Hurdles race before embarking my route...
No challenge. Juggling every trade... show balance, but with
more talent.
Ski high, waving goodbye to my co-pilot.
Crush your dome pallet. With a microphone now completely made from a chrome mallet... till your brain goes out it!
Yeah, mystical rap. That boom bap.
That, Sticky Fingaz @ the Source Awards, shooting the room
while doing a tune rap.
That 12 in the afternoon nap. Then make a kaboom that...
makes you lose track of the Daily News cap.
--tion on your tube rap.
I'm Hugh Jack. -man, I had to say that.
dropping the anchor. Fucking net heads, talk like a wanker.
And sound like a fag, so when I spot ya, and pop my head out the top of my Tanker?
There will be no off switch for stopping my anger!
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