Rahim Samad - John Horse lyrics

(Before music begins) Blast it until its deafening (music begins) Clap for me, Clap for me, Clap Clap for me, Clap for me, Clap Clap your hands for what he's doing Horns! This is so majestic Lets Go! V-A-U-L to the T Coming from the bottom to the T-O-P Rahim Samad in the place to be (1st verse) Most of these rappers are short change Only time they hard is when they snorting that c**aine claiming that they street but they aren't real with no shame until you put that heat to their grill like propane no name rappers want to ball with no game, no aim can't make a basket, grab the rock and pa** it over to this crew for the two, Vaultcla**ic Rahim Samad is guaranteed to move the ma**es flow is so nasty, probably needs to detox this Michael Jackson style is off the wall with no sheet rock knocking till the beat stops my style is phatter than the fat dude from the fat boys that did the beatbox got the mind of a young George Jackson, young boys asking 'Who's that?' live from the trigga state, or the gunshine state blasting until those red and blue lights are flashing from the dirty south and the north, all I do is blend the accent got my crew outside the club its time to crash it Dickie suits and timberland boots be our fashion school of hard knocks wasn't one day absent chairman of the board, the ASR a**ailant God is my train of thought, can't derail it if your blind to the realness, this rhyme will braille it if real music floats your boat, this song will sail it (Chorus 2x) VaultCLa**ic, we're on the way to the top Rappers that hate, we just taking they spot and they can stay mad while we're making it hot It be V-C-P till the day that we drop (2nd verse) My art is martial, Rahim's a sensei can't control me, i'm not Kunta Kente I ain't a slave, I'm my mother's son And if they tried to cut my foot I'd kick they bu*t with my other one I didn't stutter son, no i'm not the dutterman Tampa is where i'm coming from There ain't another one more realer than this brother shining from the Southern sun Under the Mason dixon line, changing my position i'm type of cat to settle beef at any place and time you couldn't walk in my shoes or even lace up mine the judge didn't throw out my case and I ain't pay my fine To hell with the prosecution and state, thats my state of mind i'm a fool with it, young Elijah Poole with it Old heads liken my flow to when a tool is spitting This be the Son of Man that teach the true and living God ain't a mystery spook, they must be kidding (Chorus 2x) VaultCLa**ic, we're on the way to the top Rappers that hate, we just taking they spot and they can stay mad while we're making it hot It be V-C-P till the day that we drop (3rd Verse) Rahim's back, even better than before stay in my own lane with the pedal to the floor Buffalo soldiers, rebels in this war Thats steet educated to the core Raised by ghetto imams and slum apostles two edged sword as a tongue, thats turned hostile there's nothing it can't chop through got a glock 26 mind to pop you, hollow tip thoughts to stop you Richard Roundtree afro, this young Castro turns savage when you mess with his cashflow, why try? Say Buenos Noches to the bad guy, Rahim Samad Cause you won't see a bad guy like this again (let me tell you) (Chorus 2x) VaultCLa**ic, we're on the way to the top Rappers that hate, we just taking they spot and they can stay mad while we're making it hot It be V-C-P till the day that we drop