MF DOOM - The Finest lyrics

Mary Davis: The, the finest MF DOOM and Mary Davis: As the life cycle goes on, goes on And you learn to hold on, hold on To things like the mic, the mic And you learn to appreciate who is the nicest on said device But who is (The finest)? Tommy Gunn, MF DOOM, and Mary Davis: Time at shashuma, too much drama, blind behind the rumor Time and time and time, my mind, I'm trying to find a tumor Time at shashuma, no time for humor As soon as one of ya' men's dead in Hempstead, you trying to find Pumas Sooner the better, even knitted a sweater already Keep your leather, we coming through the brutal weather We ready to do whatever, yo Doom, you with it? (You know it like a poet, my brother Hey, Gunn you wit it?) Whatever (Finest) MF DOOM: I know about going paid to broke, to next day well-off To bust a shell off, to dick-riders, "Get the hell off" Made a call to a client, he must've had his cell off A show-off, he has the same bite but fell off I tell off the bat, from science to pure facts Which n***as is wack till they last two tracks Matter fact, y'all could wait for the rep to tell The tall tale, how he escape from out the depths of Hell Tommy Gunn: When die, he gon' die like a soldier die Holding a swollen eye, drinking Olde Gold Smoking a stog, watching popo patrol the beach Blowing my high, rolling by, when Gunn die He gon' try to preach the streets then go to the sky MF DOOM: Yup, that hold water, like drizzle in a paper cup This one etched in stone, the chisel with the paper up I need a cut, a taper-up, edge-up n***as can't measure up, I'm here to get the treasure up Megalon: Stands up and hold 'em high, do or die He got heat, no surprise, stop the beat, close your eyes Got the weed, rolling lah Not sweet, so no demise, all the guys drops seeds so multiply Within the prophecies hold the lie MF DOOM: He bled my mother and my father, but can't bleed me OD, ghetto misery He bled my brother, my sister, but can't bleed me A OG, ghetto misery Bled my mother, my father, but can't bleed Me, sci-fly, whole style stuck up Used to talk to myself, I told him, "Shut the f** up" Buckle up 'cause it's about to be rough He said, "Keep talking that sh**, you 'bout to be snuffed" Then we squashed it, I let em know, "Watch it We only met a time to join these rhymers in the mosh pit" Gosh, it feels great just to increase the chance For a p**y n***a face to hit the dance floor Megalon and MF DOOM: I pull ya top up, got clout, crack rock, what? Now it's all good business, and so this b**h is locked up On the dance floor. you got knocked out, your b**h got knocked up Baby-face, and hey can you brand you, brand new machete Damn, I just shook your hand and can't stand you already Can't stand you, understand you deadly But my hammer's like a band, my man, it's Brand New and Heavy Yo' Doom, you ready? (Yeah, yo Gunn, you with it?) Whatever MF DOOM: Come on stay, I wrote this rhyme on my born-day Remind me of the same style I flipped on "Hey" Yikes, who can f** with the likes Of one such who scores touchdown and spikes mic's Metal grill, with many styles, better still Feel like number twenty-six on a roulette wheel And deal, and run rings around rhymers And run rings like number runners whose old-timers Megalon: Shorty in the all black, she think she all that I called her, she said, "Don't call back!" She called me, now what you call that? Let's go back, I sold crack Hold gats, smoke that, drink that, toke that f**! Where that ho at? Where that dough at? MF DOOM and Tommy Gunn: Suffering succotash, this hooker broke into his last buck of cash He love her, motherf** her a** Metal feet dented your car fender My agenda up in the basement party tipping the bartender Is unbeknownst to you, who could get body blown? MF like Mike Fran Corleone And got it sown, maricon, like to know what you staring at? An invisible cat, who pull off a disappearing act Raised by a pack a wild womens like Sweetback Front? I'mma be back (Like brothers in the street act Surrounded by a bunch a bad b**hes like Sweetback f** with me, I'll be back) Like n***as in the streets act (Streets act) Melvin van Peebles and Mary Davis: A black mystery (The finest) Melvin van Peebles: A black mystery Yeah and he won't bleed Mary Davis: The