Mr. Metaphor - Outside the Lounge lyrics

[Lilscienz] Yo, freestyles, reside to the e-ventually You might see me, kick the spree Get the tape in the Benzi box Up in club spots On a regular base Anytime and place What? I slam kids Harder than Shaquille O'neal down to the ma**es I take crews back to, um, hiphop cla**es Because they didn't surpa** this We reside actually, acrobatically, yo... [???] Came and burn me if you spit words in flame from your brain (What?) Rugged terrain, style insane, you's the lame (Huh) Freestyle or written strictly sh**tin on emcees Drop these, mad degrees on emcees Everyday, everynight You fight for the mic, but you can't handle it I dismantle it, bust you in your head with it You know you can't spit it like I spit it Yeah you sh** it in the toilet bowl You know I got nuff soul Y'all control the core cipher You know we drop this, and got emcees following like the Pied Piper You know we hyper, so... [Wiseguy] Yo, yo, yo; can I get a chance to drop in the cipher? Set the sh** on fire Yo why the, beats stop? I don't know the beat-box is coming in Got you counting from on to ten And by the time you get up to nine, your a** is left behind Cause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymes Send n***as to pa** the time, coming off the mind or the brain Can't maintain I'm type strange And ill, in the mind of Wiseguy, that's right I'm the baddest on the mic, I'm average height Got a huge appetite, sorda like Iron Mike Cept I don't bite, I just fight, with raps all right Use the left and the right, recite styles is hype off the top Pardon me but stop the beat-box Cause yo I got beats son (Aw word?) (Aight) My bad, I didn't mean to k** that sh**. (That's alright Man, y'know what'm sayin?) [Talib Kweli] The beats is always love, y'know what'm sayin? n***as always show love with the beats (My little yellow box, always come in handy) Y'know what'm sayin? Yo, this is like a whack emcees nightmare, y'know what'm sayin? Thats why I'm right here, y'know what'm sayin? *beat comes in* Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo; My name is Kweli, from the Eternally Reflection, spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee *aside* Yo, wa**up y'all, wa**up y'all, Im doin this I love the rush that I get seein a whack emcee's bottom lip quiver He know he gettin smacked for every whack rhyme he deliver Whether in allies or back streets, or the stairwell to Fat Beats I come off like the ink that be staining my hands in rap sheets With lyrics stronger than Samson, to send Marilyn Manson Back to Hell, the resurrection of Fred Hampton You can tell by the way your sh** swelled and lump up Whenever punks jump up They get down, for thinking they Bone creeping on a come up Now I got one up, but we much more than crabs in a barrel Or f*gs who rap about apparel with an outlook that's mad narrow We civilized, so on the microphone we vilify For proving that the n***as with sk**s is still alive (Still alive) (Still alive) (Still alive) [Shabaam Shadeeq] Aiyyo, freak that, I'm leavin rappers hangin like kiddybacks Or hats on coat racks, I'm rough like porcupine backs Smack the emcees that lack, but, yo, they knew that Like the flute blew through that, with nothing but facts Deejays cut the wax, snare sharp like ax Mic acrobatics and writing the star static From basement to attic, get smacked, act dramatic I had it with some of these fake rhyming a** f*ggots Who Shabaam Shadeeq they a**, make it blast Stone for cast, whiplash like car crash, black flag For emcees that multiply, act bad, make you dig in your rhyme bag Got all the sk**s you wish you had, dreams you had Scorch that a** and make you take the words back To the foundation of that whack verse creation Double S, who wan' test? smash your face in [Building Block] Yeah, yo, yo; my shops cop ?more 'neath? Things in caster rock And get you open with the combination, like master lock Let it be known, that none could ever pa** the Block And when the spot get blown, I hit you with the ?yeah, first shot? Traffic stop when I'm jammin, cause I got more back than gammon Slammin those that oppose my flow like salmon Foes be standing clear, cause, yo, they can't compare The only thing that could hang in hear is a chandelier This man could care less what them say, kick it like sensai Then stay, on your mind like Ash on a Wednesday He at a loss style, got no cause to smile I toss that a** all across, kinda like a foster child [Mr. Metaphor] It's Mr. Metaphor, everybody gather round Live in stereo sound and very profound Deeper than a burial ground, I'm aerial bound and shuttin Comped down as I rock like Charles Dutton From Gangster Putnam I cut em from every angle Far from a square cause I wreck when I tangle Minds I mangle, mic's I strangle in advance In every circumstance I leave you shook like turbulence You'll never get this, I'm up in that a** like a tetan*s Met twist rhymes and drop more lines than Tetris I'm sicker than asbestos, spraying rhymes like aspesticides Best to step aside, realize who the best is [Lilscienz] One two, one two The Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New Jeru One two, one two Yeah, the Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New Jeru Yo, let's go back like ?Gilda Masheviks? With phat challenging methods The rhythm stays energetic The pen's motions kinetic See Heaven sent styles, bless the ears of my peers Even older heads get contacted From bomb tactic Exploding in your nearest tabernacle, Holy like Kadesh HTM, bow lyricists You feel it in your chest son, like that Nine Ether Sound right, reasin em, pleasin em through the speaker For years and years mad heads doubted me Then I changed hiphop, into new-op, its best described as alchemy The scientist, applying this throughout the global I stays universal with the vocal Attracting your focal points with each joint performed at live shows While Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flows My mind grows, being divine, strolls, by the Master One verse could cause cataclysmic disaster But the truth hurts to be murder with spoken words Profound sound all in your section No question The Scienz of Life, don't confuse it Aiyyo if it don't sound right than it ain't music *indistinct chatter by emcees overlapped by security guard saying:* Alright, alright fellas, fellas, fellas, fellas, hold on, hold on Hold up a second You guys, you guys can't be making this noise With the music and everything. (Aw, come on!) You gotta leave this area. I gotta clear this spot (We gotta go inside right now) So get on line. (We got tickets) So get on line (We got tickets) Alright, alright, you gonna get, you got tickets So get on line, and get out of this area The line is over there. (We were just doing our thing) Its all good, its all good. Get on line, alright (Whatever, whatever) Little youngsters