3- Wordsmith
Album: E.U.I (Evolving Under the Influence)
©2010 P.D.M. Music Co. All rights reserved.
Chorus:
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
I can strike anywhere, anytime, like bird shit.
Look up to the sky witness it first person.
Let this wigga rhyme, quick to kick sick verses.
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
With a mic in my hand, here I stand so perfect.
Just wanna clear my mind, draw back the curtains.
Open up your mind, let me scratch the surface.
Verse I:
Okay, I say holy shit, and my doo doo prays to God.
You say I'm a ****, then I just shake it off.
I say lots of shit. Is it true? You make the call.
If words could save the earth, shit, we'd say ‘em all.
Buts words ain't worth a shit. They’re empty… blah, blah, blah.
Don't dance around this fact. This ain’t Cha-cha-cha.
Don't cry about your life. I ain't grandma ma ma.
You complain too motherfuckin’ much. Ha, ha, ha!
Do-re-mi-fa-so, Hoe. La, la, la.
I get mine fo' sho' yo. La dee da.
Shake your pom pom poms, ****. Rah, rah, rah.
Fourth down and inches , do I punt? Nah, nah, nah.
Chorus:
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
I can strike anywhere, anytime, like bird shit.
Look up to the sky witness it first person.
Let this wigga rhyme, quick to kick sick verses.
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
With a mic in my hand, here I stand so perfect.
Just wanna clear my mind, draw back the curtains.
Open up your mind, let me scratch the surface.
Verse II:
Better bone up, before you pop in my tape.
**** it ain't music. It's a mind state.
Gourmet flow, I serve you up on a nice plate.
White and hustle for dollars, I call this shit rice cake.
But here I go again. Shit I ain't White Snake.
I'm sick of spittin’ bullshit. I hope my mic breaks.
But as luck would have it, words still spewing out my face.
Now go and syndicate me on MySpace.
I don't dance ****. This ain't Swan Lake.
I keep it raw, medium rare. Now go cook my steak.
My clique ain't drunk and high. We're twice baked.
And guess what. We're down for whatever, whatever it might take.
Chorus:
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
I can strike anywhere, anytime, like bird shit.
Look up to the sky witness it first person.
Let this wigga rhyme, quick to kick sick verses.
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
With a mic in my hand, here I stand so perfect.
Just wanna clear my mind, draw back the curtains.
Open up your mind, let me scratch the surface.
Verse III:
I'm antisocial, mood swingin’ like a rollercoaster.
No wonder my co-workers think that I'm going postal.
One day, I snapped, having a water cooler chat.
Stabbed my boss in the back, twisted the knife twice, and laughed.
Tell a dike, “get some dick in your life.”
Pull down my pants and tickle her wind pipe, with my pickle, aight?
Open wide for this kosher dill. **** wavin’ a white flag, **** , I go for the kill.
One day, I'll quit rap and switch to preaching peace and love.
But until then, I'ma promote hate and catch a decent buzz.
All American, I pledge my allegiance.
But **** the system, I stick with disobedience.
Chorus (repeat 2x):
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
I can strike anywhere, anytime, like bird shit.
Look up to the sky witness it first person.
Let this wigga rhyme, quick to kick sick verses.
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
With a mic in my hand, here I stand so perfect.
Just wanna clear my mind, draw back the curtains.
Open up your mind, let me scratch the surface.
I'm a mothafuckin’ wordsmith.
I can strike anywhere, anytime, like bird shit.
Look up to the sky witness it first person.
Let this wigga rhyme, quick to kick sick verses.
I'm a mothafu