Carl "Butch" Small - As the World Keeps Turning lyrics

[Intro/Chorus:] As the world keeps turning, chronic keeps burning (This ain't no) street sermon, these n***as are determined [Repeat] [Verse 1:Where] I flow like CD's in the deck Moosh fools in the face that lack respect Protect ya arm, pitch from the funk I deodirise the musty, ya rhymes are crusty, you can't bust G So leave me alone I'm in the zone Walkin the streets on my own, n***a get blown Some n***as say that n***a Where is gone But I'm low in the cut and gotta microphone Are you gone bust or play bones? You motherf**in clone, get off that n***a's style and get'cha own It's Miscellane and it's on again For the n***as that slept, they shoulda stayed in step And kept ya big f**in mouth shut [Chorus] [Verse 2:Where] I woke up with a stomach ache, headache, back ache Advil, Tylenol, Peptol, slept so long realised my world is wrong My world is gone like disco Blowin up Cisco and in my Cammo Standin in back of me was my soul Thinking of the easiest way to get a bank roll Knowledge is urban-able, exhaust manifold A tar can of hoes to lubricate my system quick Shaky b**hes off the dick Cos she got a vice grip on the flow from my lips I'm slow but equipped with the proper tools Show me the one talkin sh** so I can drop a fool I'm out to glow a n***a roll if he think he Mr CREAM Come back on the scene and smoke a phillie, G I really dream of gettin mine now let me tell you what's silly Me, buckin with my team is murder one I heard a gun bustin shots (SHOTS!), down the block (BLOCK!) I guess a n***a gettin what he got (GOT!) sh** is heavy like a medicine ball and broke n***as to smoke n***as I'll f** one for y'all, they made ya last phone call To a trick that didn't even care Cos she was gettin f**ed somewhere, you're stuck in there Now you wanna bust, n***a, now you wanna k**, n***a (n***a) n***a how ya feel? (n***a) You can't try to be real (You can't try to be real) sh** is for real [Chorus] [Verse 3:Where] I'm cooler than most, but I got the shorter temper And I'm cooler than foes that don't know how it goes Let's take it back to the first side When you was a new jack and jockin my new track But you was wrong, didn't know about the big long Head-strong, nicknamed Dav from off the school yard Witta teenage group I'm turnin loots to tracks Me and my n***as like (These tracks are laced with bomb weed and tight lyrics) You wanna know what the hoes used to do When me and my crew came bustin through All sorts of blushins brew (A neighbourhood find, a gift too swift, Miscellane is the crew) Underground till my brown eyed balls turned blue This is for the b**hes and n***as that wanna front I smoke on, I broke on till I spoke on Miscellane packin shows like Farrakhan Where is on another level with two n***as that's on the same plateau Now that's three times your tightest flow And three times ya tightest track, three times your fattest sack Three times is clever (BUCK!) [Chorus x 2] [Outro:] Thou shalt rest in grief who lay buried in the belt Barely included work, leaves bodies scarred and hurt To art in hell, where the next man dwells The place with stankin p**y and crack rock dwells