K.M.D. - Black Bastards! lyrics

* this album was only released promotionally (bootlegs do exist though) "I ain't black, I ain't white!" (Repeat 12x) [Zev Love X] Well I'll be a AIDS sleazer, if I had skeezer After skeezer stacked up like ice cubes in my freezer I'd rather live to be an old geezer, O.E. squeezer Any times I need a stress easer Like Ebeneezer Scrooge I'm rude, my batting average is huge Making street hits like Quaker with the grits For as a monkey spits, I never gots the sh**s Some rappers is faking, they silicon tits with plastic nipples Pa** the ripple, or anything sippable Except for plum juice, the plums is sure grippable Slip and slidin', the next thing they say is we're with pit Who's to flip? Who's the b**h to get f**ed by a clip? Ask Tyson, he knows about a ho is rotten juice Worth fifteen cent, and burning like a loose I take it to the grudge match, and she made my budget budge Kick her in her snatch, and drown her in some fudge I judge trees by the fruits and the deepness of the roots Hard packed, with rats, true recruits of the flutes Some come in bum, some with zoot suit apparel Either way to wreck shop, lock, stock, and barrel Off chimps I gets pumped, never swept, ‘specially when I hump Gets, dough by the lump sum then hop, skip, and jump Sip wine in the dumps or alley ways of any state Where I roll, bounce, rock, skate Life will concentrate, concentration Location's Strong Island, where skins is on strike like Penn Station If you don't believe me, kid come, I'll show you Where lurks the black ba*tards who act like they know you They say 'What up black?" I say "What up?" I'm thinkin' you black Has to be hard they way they master how to act black Give my monkey slack, a funky track, still wack, you're black You s** your teeth like it's your back "Ya black ba*tard!" [Some ragga toaster] Ayo, yo bum raga a la You ain't nothing but a damn black ba*tard, man Your mama was a ba*tard, and your daddy, too [Zev Love X] Yo black, yo black, I'm back ransacking through the stacks Of maniacal thoughts, I brought to distort the wack Mistakes of some, so Zev says "Keep 'em slum" Styles to delf, rum is on my right Of black ba*tards and b**hes, which reminds me, I left them out Two From my list of sh** I don't give a f** about Smokes an artist and a butcher wears a smock Like a butcher I gots beef with a looptie for my co*k Call me a carpenter from how brick my lumber got Some, now, they try and yard a young black bumbaclot It was Ed Lover's birthday party, a block from the spot On stage I heard some off-beat "Lick shots, lick shots!" Well goddamn, guess who, looking b**hy as hell It's Parker Lewis, well well, I brings a L I gave a "Beef beef" look, he acted like he couldn't tell I guess that was the s**er in him, ready set to swell The door said it was insane, at price to maintain But damn it has to be hard the way they master how to act black Or off the funky track to rock the house in vein As we sat with curiosity and sipped champagne See I became undergorund since the life in the street The love of the beat, large is the fleet That will remain underground for all my boys whose souls sleep Six feet deeper than the soles of my feet It's like that, never the wack, and actual fact It's like this, sweet as a kiss, as if you got the knack I've thought I've seen the worst with the pimps and the macks And the cracks and stone packs, s**ers keep popping that "I ain't black, I ain't white!" (Repeat 12x)