Fo Chief & Kontrast - Slaughter Music lyrics

(Fo Chief) The mental stain, I drain brains through your skully cap With' a roundtable of heaters that's havin' none of that Cats that'll collapse ya spinach 'til ya money zapped We be so thick into rhymes, these boys chubby fat By no minimal margin either Chest pumpin' it cold Dippin' a robe, a frozen drink, sippin' it slow I am a marksman, artillery kick the cat boom really be sick The infamous boss in the clique I am the one chosen, woven Into a secret society, deadly poets that stay frozen When I am rappin' they runnin', you rappin' they dozin' Cause I am clappin' ya focus, you feel like overdosin' Smashin' these rookie rappers, I'm laughin' how they hold it You could get caught up backwards and slapped up in a moment Huntin' with heathen's, using fist packs and bottle caps Nowadays it seems the hollows make you holler back But really, it just depends on who you hollerin' at Ever come outta line at me, then it's all a rap But I know Once you heard of me murder a rhyme The flow is so perverted at times it be burnin' ya eyes And I'm SICK WIT' IT H.I.V., boy you know the pen hit it Admit it, Chief'll spit fire, you know he end wit' it Yeah, the Chief and 'Trast get you done wit' Wipin' the floor up with all your corny verses on some fun sh** (Kontrast) I am the being of believing, preaching proceeding to mean well You feelin' what I'm seein' like I'm teachin' you to read Braille And on the deeper end of the scale Me and my homies dwell embracing a holy grail Pervasive, but your faces are frail And any traces of your fails are braided in veils Escapin' through a gated tale of faded trails A dose of my rhymes is nastier than post dated ale In ya post dated mail, so folks play it well and don't miss it I piss on pissed off cats with fists clenched, a sixth sense Simplistic misfits get they ribs wrenched affixed whence A blissful fistful leaves my wrists drenched in fish stench A dissful missile for you pussies in your filth trench Spread that wealth like it's funny dude Your money's where my mouth is You can take my words with you Leave you disturbed to get through A ceiling you can't commit to Dreamin' perturbed to fit to A feeling you can't forget too Fo Chief, where the f** you at? (I'm right here) We need to tear all these s**ers back (They might hear) A dirtier motto than a waddle to a grotto Where they wallow in their sorrow and their bottles stay hollow Where the who*es gobble coarse men outside the Apollo Strike the Lotto when abortion isn't possible to follow Might afford County Court from the options that they borrow from this sport (Stay dirty!) With no remorse for you cowards