Bronze Nazareth - Hear What I Say! lyrics

[Intro: kung fu sample] You're here to learn kung fu, remember? This is not a rest home... Now go on, do some practice! [Bronze Nazareth] I'll probably never be as big as Slim Shady or Jay-Z Even though I write vivid like I'm Homer the Greek And study life like Socrates, without MTV You think you're thugs, but for real, I sat with feds for robbery I'm try'nna walk the desert sands like RZA and Ringz Gotta eat and beats don't pay the bills, unless you got a name Like The Neptunes, Jazze Pha or Kanye West And if your album ain't five mics, don't front like it is I got cla**ic material without a mixtape host Love Pac and B.I.G., but I miss Pun the most I'm so underground, I play beats on the bones of Medgar Evers Sitting next to Murs, Immortal Technique and The Beggaz Like Vernon Johns with no voice, you'll never hear my message Not on the block, selling cooked rocks to my sisters Not in the club all hard with credit cards in your a** Dropped in 86, got mad when Goodie Mob didn't last Just wanted more "Soul Food" and an occasional "party" Just wanted you to hear what I say, love it or disregard it Just wanted Hot 97 to play my sh**, like they promised They never did, but probably payola was honest I'm like Van Gogh's paintings, you'll never hear my talents It's the sound of neglect, that makes me green with malice Serch can't find my music, he ain't answer me in a while I was hoping The Unknown album got signed by Kevin Liles But I never heard back from him, or Artist Direct Sat in my room and watched Stagga Lee disrespect rap While Khia got her neck and back, licked by the millions I tried to tell you about history, mansions and k**ings Like how the Wu-Tang gave the knowledge, but you just wanted to dance sh**, my own family and friends ain't buy Birth of a Prince My debut, startin' to wonder what's the f**ing purpose? You f*ggots rhyme weak, but everybody's spitting verses We used to follow Martin Luther, up in Capitol Hill Now you follow every rap artist whose throwback is ill Albums weak now, internet didn't f** up no sales 12 producers, on 12 songs, the sh** can't gel It's just a compilation album, full of your wack songs And b**hes dancin' all in your video with black thongs All I wanted was for Steve Rifkind to listen, push play And for those who's not listening, to hear what I say f**, man....