Eddie Ill & D.L. - Ace Lover, Stelf Index, Blowout, and Phase 1 Freestyle (A Long Rhyme Coming: The 1999 to 2002 Sessions Pt. 1) lyrics

[Intro: Ace Lover and (Blowout)] One, two, one, two (One, two). We up in the studio. Uh. Yeah, yeah (What, what?). Mixtape. Yo, yo (Yo, Ace Lover). One, two, one, two. Yo [Verse 1: Ace Lover] Yo, peace to Eddie Ill & D.L. They be real friendly Cla**ic style like beats on SPs I like MPCs too. I'll keep cool In the vocal box. Women think my voice sound s**y Word is bond. You could purchase this At your local record store, feel the ba** in your bird chest Mixtape masters putting in work like Community service. Ace Lover banging out platinum verses Up rocking, pop-locking, old-school Essence, presence, so won't catch me rocking FUBU The steadiest flow. I'll practice Stage-diving on a couch when I'm getting ready for show My reflexes on point, style refreshing Straight-up star status—A&Rs be stressing It's getting late. I got to get The hell home. For booking and info, just hit me on The cellphone. Peace, y'all [Interlude 1: Stelf Index] Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Stelf Index [Verse 2: Stelf Index] When Stronghold Say, “Jump to the sky,” you reply, “How high?” Yours become ours like erasing a “Y” Millennium cla**ic. Could care less about the difference of Silver and platinum ‘less I snatched it. Forget a casket Suffer eternal life without resurrection Son s-s-s-s-stuttering like bad MP3 connections My section ain't C—a A creates form Make you believe what you didn't see: I'm an icon I'm on these like turntable to a broken ground wire Surround sound, spit fire. Higher level boosted Low love—bad tennis sk**s and k**ed Cupid Stronghold promotion motion co*k, block-spray Latin ladies call me “¡Ay, Stuffed Chocolate!” Rivals are like broken toilet bowl: crapshoot I'll take this sh** but spit it right back at you Stelf Index Stronghold finger number 2, n***a My mind's a million gigabytes. You just bite Jigga [Interlude 2: Blowout] Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace. Blowouts. Uh, Turntable Anihilists [Verse 3: Blowout] When I step up in the zone, I'm sure to stand straight Won't try to hide behind the black shades I won't try to run out through the back gate Face-to-face, reflects off gla** plates Won't allow disgrace to take this man's place Break fast through landscapes with a fast break Escape plans when man plans with fake Handshakes. What a great game, but I can't brace My arms and legs have pain. Who wants To join my campaign? Who can withstand Pain and is half-sane? What's his last name? If he's a p**y, he gets gang-raped Barricade with scatterbrains who salivate But won't make moves until it's Saturday Don't pay dues and chill and masturbate Expect their space when their brain is half-baked Life's fast-paced—that means I can't wait I'm trying to establish a what? A fan base [Interlude 3: Phase 1] What? Word up. Phase [?]. For my man Eddie Ill. Check it out. One, two. One, two. Yo [Verse 4: Phase 1] Me as Phase 1 I'm stealing typical. Bet the signs of the times The rhymes I recite could stop time and just show it the si-g-nals Through lyrical visuals, the eyes of the beholder See me clear, invisible, [?] of the invincible Spitting the principle punching points and push membranes Words mush you in ways same as sticks and stones break frames I heard your flow and asked where your head has been Heard the flow's hot. When you hear my voice box, you got that melanin Texture is better than any watered-down, diluted Rap veteran who think he's still got it. Now are we On the same page? You saying I ain't blaze Min, Cain, Dada, AIDS, and every dead rapper you know's In the flesh, out of their graves, saying I'm insane Freak mainstream. I'll give a bloodstream, pop a main vein Rock songs in your mainframe. Make your song Opposite of your name and against the world grain Tough guys maintain Eddie Ill Word up, this is cla**ic. I'll soar on tracks Like dinos, Jura**ic. Word up You such a bizatch, I'll rip you down And you call it hara**ment. You so biyaitch That, when I battle you... You know'm saying? Word up I do it, you nah'mean? DJ Static Produces the beats. All the techniques is sweet Out-of-this-limb-physique. I'm here, chilling with My home girl Karina, lay back in the cut And you know when I seen her, it was all good In the neighborhood. It's called Castle Hill Right now, I'm trying to do my thing, earn my bills Peace to Eddie Ill. He made this ill Word up. Peace to Eddie Ill. He made this ill Word up