Baba Brinkman - Mad Style Disease lyrics

Don't take me for nothin' but a punch-line jester Inside my chest I let the rhymes fester ‘Til I'm feelin' like a woman in her third trimester Then I just deliver – wait, scratch that I mean I digest the liver of anyone try to test When I flexin' rhymes tight enough to twist in a rizzla And when you're smokin' it, any type of narcotic is An appropriate an*logue, ‘cause what I'm writin' astonishes This is Planet Rock crossed with the tightest mic product since The writer of sonnets and Titus Andronicus My life is synonymous with hip-hop fa sho' You could try to fight if you wanna, but one monkey don't stop The show, as Dustin Hoffman knows And when this Outbreak clogs your throat, no anesthetic is Gonna stop the spread of this global pandemic Rap fans get infected the minute a jam's ended God dammit… I've got mad style disease Infectin' a thousand MCs like spirochetes I've got a sonically transmitted Disorder of rhyme all of the time Tanglin' terrific talk the tongue-tweaker I walk on your flows like Jesus on water with one speaker And a dodgy mic and a five string guitar This troglodyte might bring the stars Back down to the underground, so all the alley rats can see Like me, galactically, and break out of the battery Factory farm, I'm actually not particularly hip-hop I haven't got the right swagger or stroll I don't battle or ball, but I'm bound To bop around the world like a Bedouin tribe Writin' down poetry, wearin' amphetamine eyes Settlin' never, wrestlin' idiocy to be unfetterin' Heads that are chained deep in the brain of the beast My terrain is ceaselessly unfolding It ain't just what I say; I'll strip and preach naked To the subway commuters, ‘cause as humans Suits could never suit us, we're unique from the day That we take shape in the uterus, and the future is Looking grim; I stand in the blistering sun Watching the trees withering one by one Feeling the spread of a sickness up in my head I predict this Is the day my illness infects the hit list Bear witness… I've got mad style disease Infectin' a thousand MCs like spirochetes I've got a sonically transmitted Disorder of rhyme all of the time How am I tryin' to be rockin' a tune if I'm not a musician? I listened to two million different hits and caught a few sicknesses But I'm still livin', ‘cause now I've got a new mission It's never to let a rapper get in my auto-immune system So I seep in your blood quicker than syphilis In fertility clinics, leavin' a hideous boil dribblin' I am the sickest citizen leavin' impotent f**ers to think again Givin' em stinky ends with my written blend If I fit the description, then there's been a distortion This isn't just a little itch like when your genitals' scorchin' It's more than any medical professional's ever recorded In their official report, a swarm of epidemic proportion Now I'm a witch doctor operating with minimum ignorance Making incisions in your cynicism with my limericks I fiddle with your spleen like a swizzle stick My vocals turn an idiot to a misfit for the frig of it I've got mad style disease Infectin' a thousand MCs like spirochetes I've got a sonically transmitted Disorder of rhyme all of the time