SC Static & Zoo - Third Degree lyrics

Third Degree Lyrics (Static) Yo I could give a f** about the rules, give a f** about your j**els Give a f** about your claims of being insurmountable Don't wanna see the casualties of when I battle dudes Walk in with that New York I don't give a f** attitude Pissed off rapper I don't get enough gratitude Rhymes are horrific and they'll scare the f** out of you I'm high as hell I'm at a cloud height altitude Flying through the sky with a birds eye mountain view I'm strictly business so don't bother me with stupid sh** I'm a lunatic, dressing bluer than a Hoova Crip Load the rugger clips, then I'll steady aim and shoot the sh** I'm a hooligan, a Big Daddy Kane duplicate Zoo was chuggin' brews chewing through huge vicodins I was smoking reefer eatin' Blues Clues Vitamins Old school style with some new school type of sh** Static on the track is like the Juice Crew cypherin' I make myself at home in burial sites And get higher than a stewardess on aerial flights, yeah We never stressin' over stereotypes We stressin' Sony, Panasonic, you know stereo types, uh I rock baggy jeans, designer style fitteds So sit back retire and admire my exquisite Comprised rhyme style of these lines that I've written My chinky eyes wide alright I'm high and I admit it Late night on the Bronx streets you can find me 40 in my hand and beside me a dime piece My flow's godly, whack rappers despise me This sh**'s grimy, pizza grease on my rhyme sheets, uh (Chorus) I've had enough okays and okey dokes From these phonies rockin' fairy boy sandals with their open toes Your rap group's a bunch of hopeless souls You think your flow is dope but homie no you ain't even remotely close Nope buddy no you ain't even remotely close So quit rappin' quit yappin' quit smokin' boges Oh you actually think your flow is dope? Well nope homie no little buddy you ain't even remotely close (Zoo) My flow's tougher than the south side of Chicago As I lay down golden bars like the road to Eldorado My hash from Maraca, Miami to New York, Carlos Delgado My powder rocky, mountains in Colorado Shout out to the homie Coldanato Buy the ticket, take the ride, yeah now that's our f**ing motto I lived in west Philly a few years back Within three months my apartment flipped to a trap We were both bus all-stars of packing two in the briefcase H.O.P.E. bracelet, golden charm, and a keepsake If only I could learn eat, s**, and dream I need a lot more than Sonar and a submarine You don't got any guts, besides the ones Besides the ones you just dumped out of the dutch My words are limitless, Bradley Cooper taking a pill Syllable marksman, sniper shooter making a k** I'm the skipper of the ship, Clooney in perfect storm Check my birth certificate, see where the f** I was born So I laugh when cats say I ain't gonna make it I'm from New York, if it ain't given to me I'll f**ing take it Started at the bottom and I'm still here While my career hides in blunt smoke and cold beer In the gutter starring at the stars as they say I'm spinning my tires, something's gotta change I don't know where or when, but I sure do know why I got a lot of dreams I don't wanna die I don't know where or when, but I sure do know why I got a lot of dreams I don't wanna die (Static Verse) You're probably thinking Static I can spit as hot as you do If you can do it, I can do it, your style's not unusual You're white and so you s** at rap, your rhymin' style is doo doo So I'mma leave you in the dust just so I can prove it to you Words paint pictures watch me spew a few doodles I'm chewing stems and caps till I have two huge pupils My verse went over your head and my words flew through you You must not know the members to the Juice Crew, do you? I'm Mr. Magic, Marley Marl, Kool G Rap, and Masta Ace DJ Polo, MC Shan, Biz Markie, Big Daddy Kane Plus the Intelligent Hoodlum Tragedy Khadafi Get your teeth knocked out like a casualty in hockey So how can I respect you when your mind isn't nourished And when you're in the booth your looking like an obvious tourist People telling me that I ain't gonna make it and I've had enough What? Cause I ain't tatted up and I ain't rappin' whack as f**? So talk a big game homie get built up Cause even though you got more money than me you still s** Imma die on this mic, spittin' slurs in my hearse So you know I'm an MC, my last words were a verse