The Bad Seed - O.B.S. Freestyle on Night Train 89.9 lyrics

[Intro (Overlapped with The Bad Seed Adlibs): Pumpkinhead] ...on the beat. O.B.S. O.B.S. O.B.S. Uh uh uh, here we go. Here we go, yo. Yo [Verse 1: Pumpkinhead] I guess I'll be the first to start it Never kick it retarded. Emcees I'll leave departed Freestyle from the heart, kid. I'll display this Emcees get knocked to the grave, kid When I come through with this extra sautéed sh** Yo, it's frying in the sk**et. Emcees better k** it When I come through, you know that I fulfill it Yo, my lyrical status is the baddest I leave emcees leaving the saddest Yo, I'll be coming through, lyrically the fattest Like a sumo. Ayyo, you know how I roll With my crew, bro. Yo, O.B.S., we stay Smoking the dro and, yo, we're toking your ho My lyrical styles is opening flows off the top of the dome Ayyo, I represent Makin' Records, beating kids down to the pavement You're in enslavement. Lyrical styles, I never displayed it To a wack-a** emcee. I pa** it to The B-A-D S-E-double-E-D [Verse 2: The Bad Seed] Ayyo, this beat make me want to frown my grill up Yo, you listen to Night Train. Ayyo, y'all n***as still up Listening? What time is it on the radio dial? Bad Seed, I come through, s-style wicked and wild I'm f**ing up my flow, don't give a f** Remember when I used to have the fro, but now I rock what? (The ways) There's 360 ways n***as better behave Ayyo, I ain't no slave. Cut a n***a, put him in his grave Pa** the microphone off to my man, the Meat Pie He can cook it up, make all these wack emcees die [Verse 3: Meat Pie] Slap you in your eye with my left hand Eating granola with the right hand. You can't understand My method to my madness, man n***as be trying to masturbate on my plan Not chill. I make a mill with [?] Chilling on the beach, kicking sand in the water Word is bond. Slap your little daughter with a quarter water Word is bond. I'll be the illest emcee that you ever know Meat Pie, the bigger bro, the [?] n***a The little n***a, the bigger n***a. How you figure, n***a? I'm high, n***a. Eating granola bars and orange juice, n***a Can't you see me sitting with a [?] Pizza box in front of my face, up in the place 89.9 is the place to be, NYC It be the bigger n***a: M-E-A-T-P-I-E [Verse 4: Pumpkinhead] And now it be the P-U-to-the-M-P-the-K-I-N-H-E-A-D Emcees try to play me when I display these lyrical tactics Ayyo, I be the illest. I spill this Lyrical styles. I'm the genius. Yo, you get the penis Yo, you're feminine like Venus My style is a work of wonder I come through, emcees get plundered. Ayyo, I'm bringing the thunder And the lightning. It's quiet frightening My lyrical styles is inviting you To an exciting battle. If you want to step, your head get rattled Yo, this is freestyle of the top of the mental. It's essential Kicking it over instrumentals, I'm wonder with a pad and a pencil Ayyo, I leave it stenciled, chalk your body out Yo, I pull the shottie out. Emcees, I'll smack you in your rotting mouth If you try to come out your face. Ayyo, I'll Burn your eyes like Mace. Ayyo, I'm all up in the place With my crew O.B.S. Yo, you know not to test We burn mad sess until our eyes look like a red dress Ayyo, to my n***a Bad Seed sitting on the left Ayyo, you better grab the microphone ‘cause I'm running out of breath [Verse 5: The Bad Seed] Yo, I get on some Resident Evil, leave you all dead I'm fed, punch a n***a in his head. Word up I come through, leave the party red. Bad Seed come through But don't be misled. Ayyo, on a run from the Feds Remember that. Ayyo, I'm up in the studio, making tracks Ayyo, what you know about that? Smoke weed, not the crack Smack a n***a in his face if he try to react f** that. I come through with my O.B.S. crew, black Pulling MACs, in fact Pa** the microphone off to Meat Pie Ayyo, I don't where I'm grabbing. I think I'm grabbing for the sky ‘Cause I'm a motherf**ing star. Come through, kick you in your jaw Word up. Ayyo, I think you need to go tell your ma and your pa Ayyo, word up, I think they're gonna inform your whole family You don't understand me. Ayyo, I need to win a Grammy Word up, pa** the microphone off to my motherf**ing man Up on my far right. Ayyo, rip sh** down, aight, pa, right? [Hook: All] Now, tonight, I bet all of y'all are saying What the f** was that? What the f** was that? O.B.S. sh**. Word up Now, tonight, I bet all of you are saying Yo, yo, yo, what the f** was that? What the f** was that? What the f** was that? Yo, yo, yo, what the f** was that? O.B.S., O.B.S., O.B.S., O.B.S O.B.S., O.B.S., O.B.S., O.B.S [Bridge: Pumpkinhead] So are you gonna grab the mic, grab the mic? [Verse 6: Meat Pie] Gonna grab my headphones, keep going out of sight I'ma keep it going on ‘cause I only got the beat In the left one. Hold on The right one is on Now I can complete my f**ing mission I be the n***a Meat Pie. See, I seedada I slipped up, but that's aight ‘cause I'm mad high Word is bond. I don't know why it's why I need to drink some Bud Dry so I can loosen up my lyrics So I could be f**ing chilling, sipping Hennessey And doing something else, but I can't really comprehend So somebody else take the microphone. Please, friend [Verse 7: Pumpkinhead] Ayyo, you said something about Hennessey. I'm sipping Remy Martin I'll leave the party starting and sparking emcees—yo, I'm haunting ‘em Yo, I'm hunting ‘em like some bunch of deer and sheep in the forest I'm a cool cat like Morris. Yo, I'm on a tour bus Emcees, yo, uh, they try to ignore us But we coming through, smacking emcees and make their skin pour pus This is lyrical freestyle off the top. No chorus I'll be coming through and leave your whole crew jaw bust Yo, I'm rocking the yellow Mecca shirt. It never hurts I flirt with a girl, pick up her skirt, and then, yo, I splurt To the next spot and get the pot and get mad high Higher than a mountain, higher than a fountain Shooting out water, I slaughter any emcee Yo, his cousin, husband, or daughter Ayyo, I come through. Ayyo, why I ought to Smack you in the head for talking mad sh** Ayyo, I'm chilling with my crew and we sparking mad clips Ayyo, we getting mad lift. I leave emcees with a bad lip Hanging, dripping. Yo, I'm never slipping My lyrical styles is ripping like a raptor I hit you rappers, emcees—you better head for the rafters Ayyo, I have to smack you in your grill again, make you realize That we these guys that stay high. O.B.S. stay fly Ayyo, we up in the Night Train. I'll leave you with a tight brain Holding your head. You'll need a aspirin. Ayyo, I'm asking and Emcees, I'm smacking them, axing them across the back and then Attacking them. Ayyo, I'm never lacking in Freestyle technician. Emcees, they're wishing to come through My propision. I f**ed up my words in, but I'm coming through and Hitting these emcees and herbs and Slipping up in my wording. Ayyo, you're absurd and Try to freak my word and it's hurting “Emcees, yo, they can't mess with me”—yo, that's my word and I'll say it again. Ayyo, I'm ill with a pen or a pencil Yo, or paper. Ayyo, I'll rape ya Feel the “Vapors” like Biz Markie. Emcees, they can't stomp me I'll be coming through with my O.B.S. army. You can't harm we Yo, representing Brooklon to the fullest Yo, we go to your chest like vests or bullets And stuff like that. Ayyo, I kick tight raps Emcees try to step back, but, yo, they need to play back And listen to my record. Ayyo, say, “It wasn't fresh” So I could punch you in your chest and leave you with no breath Ayyo, it's on like that. We're O.B.S., trooping hard You try to step to my crew, you will get scarred It's like that, yo. We keep it flowing O.B.S. constantly glowing and shining. Yo, we knowing [Outro: The Bad Seed and (Meat Pie)] (It's like that, yo). No doubt. (Keep it flowing). No doubt. Keep it flowing