Kyd - Sergei Federov Lyrics

I'm the walkin' revival of the crack era
For what I drop on the vinyl, it's a mass terror
Bacteria blots inside of a rap paragraph
Burial plots for guys, won't last there, I
Adhere to, the laws of Sun Tzu
I'm movin' incog on you snobs to undo
And wash with a raw you piss posh and bum crews
You're appalled as I suave on your broad to run through
True Mack, true master of true rap
Inspect a deck (Inspectah Deck) of cassettes and woo (Wu) cats
Request none less than respect, I'll prove that
Armageddons through text, suggest you move back
Back to boom bap, golden age 80's shit
Raps shoot at, shoulder blades break em quick
Facts true that, homies gang flaked and dipped
Roast lames on their phony fake gangsta shit, huh
They stand back and gasp, I stand in class with Grandmaster Flash
And stamp your chatter about phantasmic gats
Clans scatter, I spit anthrax to blast
Can't subtract, the revolution rhymer
The brutalizer, the truthful wiser
Attache, I'm poppin' shit in this rat race
For spots to pick, don't politic
Yeah, we're hollering get money
The paper grip that'll make you quit money
Legit money, that slick money, big wig money
Make em flip money, the best on any list dummy
My forte is wordplay, I've been ordained cause it's first rate
Record more flames in the form I curate
Of a warlord preyin' on you nerds same
Time as he snorts cane in a pure state
Goin' berserk till death comes to flirt mane
With these excerpts, I let the pressure fester on you jesters, you'll rest in church, laying
The next hearse race to clear the scene, compare these schemes to burnt sage
Since every verse made will expunge
Leaves vets stunned when your turfs blazed
Seeing red, early 90's on back like Sergei Fedorov
Align with me, you better off
Stridently, your dynasty is severed off
Finally, I rise with speed to hegemons
Of a higher breed, divine MC who's reps beyond
Steppin' on these squadrons of corny fellas
I'm the Saddam Don Juan storyteller
Leave em in awe, bomb songs sort of stellar
Give blog reporters hell as if I'm John Tortorella
Yeah, we're hollering get money
The paper grip that'll make you quit money
Legit money, that slick money, big wig money
Make em flip money, the best on any list dummy
Trooper on fleek with the Supras on feet
You loser posses will smooch the concrete
Genes like a sheik's producing on sheets
Bon appetit on any goon in arm's reach
Long cash retrieved on this route I complete
This quest means less sleep, don't sweat the technique
Funds increase, I'll exceed your net's peak
Front of me, I'll Jet Li your head piece
Full bred beast, peep how I finesse these
When I speak on the mic, their stress deep
Your dialect's cheap to this finely dressed chief
They dress me by Guess tees, the fresh sneaks
No successor known to pencil acts
Yeah, whatever, yo, it's simple math
My cerebral blessing beats
Equals sets of fleets are reaped to rest in peace
Achieve a pedigree of a scofflaw with top-notch poetics
Let my thoughts jot with Chop Top's genetics
Hear y'all talk since hip-hop's locked in wreckage
Tears drop, your career's stop clock I set it, dead it