GZA - LabelsLyrics

Tommy ain't my motherfuckin' boy When you fake moves on a nigga you employ We'll all emerge off your set, now you know God damn I show living large niggas how to flip a def jam And rough up the motherfuckin' house cause I smother You cold chillin' motherfuckers, I still warn a brother I'm ruthless my clan don't have to act wild That shit is jive, an old sleeping bag profile The soft comedian rap shit ain't the rough witty On the reel to reel it wasn't from a tough city Niggas be game, thinking that they lyrical surgeons They know they microphone's a virgin And if you ain't boned a mic you couldn't hurt a bee That's like going to Venus driving a mercury The capitol of this rugged slang is Wu-Tang Witty unpredictable talent and natural game I death row an mc with mic cables The epic is that I rush associated labels From east west to atco, I bring it to a next plateau But I keep it phat though, yo I'm hitting batters up with the wild pitch style I even show an Uptown MC a style Who thought he saw me on 4th & Broadway But I was out on the island, bombing MC's all day My priority is that I'm first priority I bone the secret out a bitch in a sorority So look out for A&M, the Abbot and the Master Breaking down your pendulum As I fiend MC's out with a blow that'll numb the Appendix, I'm holding more more weight than Colombia Index Interscope, we RCA, clan That's coming with a plan to free a Slave of a mental death MC don't panic Throw that A&R nigga off the boat in the Atlantic Now who's the bad boy character, not from Arista But firing weapons released on Geffen So duck as I struck with the soul of Motown My central broadcasting systems is low down And dirty, like that bastard It's getting drastic