FellowMan - Stomp the Beast (Monster Mix) lyrics

[Intro] (Remy St. Clair: Professional writers) (Tao the Rez: Something beautiful) (Konundrum: Do my part) (M.Langston: Revolution) (Quisdabeast: Veteran, hiphop soldiers) (R.U.N.T.215th: Radical contingency) [Verse 1: Fellowman] Gimme a beat that's militant, gimme a minute to chill with it I'll light it like a filament, ride it like a Thai elephant Five elements, hit 'em with the message, hit 'em with the elegance Hit 'em with the relevance, shut the mouths up on these pelicans They spit for checks with 0s, they spit for s** with hoes They claiming street, but really sweeter than some breakfast rolls My team professionals, y'all took the test and froze Say you rep ghettos, but then you measure goals by records sold It's cold, that's why wack Cracker-Jack prize rap guys get black eyes Hijacking my culture, trying to capitalize And ba*tardize this sh** with flashy lies This for those who carry revolution in the back of the ride And always keep a better future in the back of they mind And never bother with the bullsh** that distract the blind You treat my music like a novelty and it bothers me But though my people hobbled, we won't stop until we stomp the beast! [Hook] Stomp the beast! [x8] Decapitate 'em, burn their bodies over blazing beats Stomp the beast! [x4] [Verse 2: Quisdabeast] We hold these truths to be self-evident That most of these n***as nowadays are irrelevant Talking about places that they've never ever been I be's in the trap, homie, Quis is a veteran Hiphop soldiers, wake up and smell the Folgers Them fake hustler, wa*ksta rapper days is f**ing over I'm here to take it back with blazing tracks that state the facts Amazing raps the game has lacked, I'll shame these cats and fade to black By all means, n***a, get your money But money can't get you to the land of milk and honey So what does it profit a man to lose his soul For the sake of going gold? Weak n***a, break the mold Life is more than getting riches and b**hes and hitting switches And I ain't saying you gotta get religious But try talking about something that makes a difference That's uplifting the people that take the time to listen Uh, I'm breaking n***as down into submission If they're caught up in the glamor and forgot about the mission Yeah I'm gettin' it, but I'm a little different 'cuz I'm the type to put the industry under my Timberlands and . . [Hook] [Verse 3: R.U.N.T.215th] Time to reclaim this culture, let's march on our enemies That besiege, and hold it like cities that's under siege They mislead, with watered-down amateur fake emcees And their greed, that plague through the ma**es like disease Exterminate 'em, spit the heat of two billion degrees Converge like a million man march of emcees s** their oxygen 'til they gasp for air and can't breathe Then cripple their whole industry and bring it to its knees We a whole different entity, my radical contingency Hunting you down relentlessly, battle you out the cipher Don't set foot in our vicinity, or perish from the intensity The fat lady sung and told 'em to stop dumbin' When you hear them horns hummin', start runnin', the reaper's comin' Industry, ya dilated, polluted rap, I'm sick of ya I'll grab you by the limbs while I chop machete and sickle ya Cripple ya, with the words of man I use like hand-to-hand Against your contraband, for stepping in lands of Rap-ghanistan Better tremble when the mic is in grasp a prophet's hands 'cuz we aiming at you serpents that's s**ing our holy land [Hook] [Verse 4: M.Langston] Keeping their third eyes wide, lyrics in disguise While keeping the melody most wanted like felonies As I stay sharp, making hits, like a sniper to a Kennedy Bring back the remedy, these rappers talking blasphemy Records are selling with souls, and fairy tales Half-baked, blowing smoke like they're David Chappelle It's a crack epidemic, call it the industry As we ram through those doors like the Reagans in the eighties With local mercenaries that are revolutionary We're fighting powers like we're a part of Chuck D's military Evolutionary form, we rhyme over concepts Dropping knowledge with the conscience of Nostradamus Pa**ing through levels, collecting coins like retro Sonic As we knuckle up the game, blowing up the Robotniks [Hook] [Verse 5: Konundrum] S-T-O-M-P the B-E-A-S-T K.D. required to stomp the industry So many things wrong, how we let this go on for so long? I won't sweat it, I'mma do my part Take back the game, let the reaper rip apart All the mainstream, so obsessed with the green They're even selling out their own team. But we're just different Exactly what you need. We dare to be new 'cuz we believe in what we do. Our movement through the words Kicking fake-a** emcees to the curb Oh wait, did I say emcees? What I really meant was dudes with a mic Who's weak in the knees, 'cuz they got nothing to stand for It's all good, me and my people's about to even the score We do the stomping with the steel-toed boot Bring the presence that you just can't refute It's too easy, all these fake-a** dudes been making me queasy So we need to intervene. The game got dirty, so we're here to clean Spin cycle, this a heavy load You know we got it on lock, my team forever in a stomp mode [Hook] [Verse 6: Tao the Rez] Ay yo I'm stomping these fake emcees, they spread out like carcinogens Disease-infested viruses ingesting markets targeting Victims, cultures picking superficial rappers offering The rope, and so we're choking on their noxious verses. Often in The scheme of things I dream of something beautiful to offer them I fool myself for thinking if I do this they're gonna all extend Love for something real, but then I see attempts exhausted and The game has been accosted, I think the battle's lost, but then I know the war is long and when the truth come out we're all gonna end This corporate hold control over the ma**es, and we'll all defend The culture that existed for no reason but to see the real increase I'm trying to see my people stomping the beast! Or at least, my fam'll reach a point at which we can decrease The obstacles they placed to see our comforts become obsolete And probably our kids can cut the pie and get their f**ing piece Time to take the cake and muthaf**in' rise and stomp the beast! [Hook] [Verse 7: Remy St. Clair] First things first, I'm glad to be back in the 'Ville I hear a lotta ish done happened since I left Rose Hill Well, Charlton Ave, finally I'm home at last Free to blast in the home of the Cavs--please Home where the black knights thrash, in my city These young whippersnappers think they're so bomb-diggy But they not though, I keep forgetting they kids, still in diapers Y'all peoples is biters, not professional writers You see it's getting dark and muggy Time to trade in them Pampers for a teflon Huggie Make sure you buy a new bib, one that protects your neck Don't want mama's boy laying in a hospital dress Remy's back with that thing called music See these young'uns try to do it, but they can't even pursue it So why try? Please just sit back Or I'll have to react and make your whole neck snap [Hook x2]