Blu - Words Past The Margin lyrics

[Verse 1: Jesse Abraham] When I told em I'm a pugilist They ain't argue They just said, “What's a pugilist?” Like I'm new to this ruthlessness Like a novice in the office who the bosses call a tuna fish He's a nudist, j**ish, buddhist who is scrupulous Mutinous mutant whose students would say is ludicrous They said his humor is just foolishness As a emcee he's empty as a stewardess' uterus They said his vocab is superfluous He'll never murder the scene in the city like David Berkowitz And that's the Son of Sam He's just a son of Sand And I seen him do the running man at summer jam He's that J-E-S to the S-E-A-B-R-A-H-A-M to PM Yeah so maybe if you investigate you will find truth behind what he's sayin [Hook] I sip the Dom P, watchin Gandhi till I'm charged Writin in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin So while you imitating Al Capone I be Nina Simone And defecating on the microphone x2 [Verse 2: Blu] Pocket full of shell toes All they do is dream of s** Play connect the Adi-dots Say realize, stay west Place bets Casino made, next Tux stay fresh Babes, benzes and Bentleys Vine, vide viche Have-nots got them knots in that Disney bag Man, they took that castle outa Plymouth Now they shippin flags Vintage Vision of the future, yo Camcorder, cannon like producin' canned products Japan bought it All black everything Leopard print wallet fallin' out my back pocket Stop and never feel it Never tell a soul that sh** Skippin' through a different hell Fire and fish baskets Samplin' soul cla**ics Hot sh** Master, like I'm just a man on top of my business Handle n***as get handled all in the wrist Blowin' French wishes and kissin' women in French Leave a three-stripe print in a picket fence Different prints Same Riviera though Yo really you're a silly era Always cause terror off that Philly twist Burn a cherub Pull a chair up, listen to this Blunted while I be Sippin my liq's Burn the hair on your chest up Lit as a cig All flared up Kick it with crips Ridiculousness Who's rid of the sh** Tell the Mrs. not to mention the ring Almost forgot about that treble cleft Bing! [Hook] I sip the Dom P, watchin Gandhi till I'm charged Writin in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin So while you imitating Al Capone I be Nina Simone And defecating on the microphone x2 [Verse 3: Jesse Abraham] They say the best things in life are free I say the best things in life aren't things Honestly what bothers me is modern people's constant need of modesty, debauchery, technology and posturing It's got me pondering how they could think they're honoring the genre it's a mockery, it's nonsense so there's gotta be a confidence inside of me Providence and prophecy Consciously demolishing the policies of poverty with colonies of prodigies Novelties and oddities My qualities are arguably the hardest thing since broccoli for wannabes to swallow They wallow in their wallabies “Socrates philosophies?” chill, it ain't 93 I ain't trying a be a nominee I made bread and built a house Ain't living in no cottage cheese So check my velocity My wattage is a problem, it's an audible atrocity [Hook] I sip the Dom P, watchin Gandhi till I'm charged Writin in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin So while you imitating Al Capone I be Nina Simone And defecating on the microphone x2