Da Ill Out (feat. Jamal & Keith Murray)

Ay yo, everybody in this motherfucker will get touched

Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs

Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques

I beez that, Freak of the Week like I made Knee Deep

Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra

Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers

I'm sautéein' MCs with fried rice up in the wok

Without the MSG and chopped celery

See, I made it, my flavor situated

From the nickel-plated mic that's hot to leave your brain inflated

Plus I'm thick like Quakers on papers

Bodacious MCs get turned to lower cases

Letterin' and the medicine that I'm swallowin'

Get you hollerin' like Marvin Gaye

When his father shot him in the chest

I roll with two stacks of Tecs

And mad **** in sets that'll roll up in your rest, uh

Mister Fantastic's crafted with that fifty sack of ass kick

When I'm blasted, my mathematics get drastic

That you can't see with bifocals

Watchin' MCs go up and and down like stock brokers

I leave your brains on tilt with ill skills, that's milk

That's rougher than Gs, that Gloria Vanderbilt

I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it

You man'll be like, yo, get that dust off your jacket

It ain't a test or a quiz that my squad can win

Those who know the biz, know we rap kids, get biz

You'll digest multiple stab wounds to the chest

Then I copycat, kill the rest

With no method to my madness

Bless the apparatus with the baddest

Determined to be the last man standin' on the planet

You'll get attached like a blood-suckin' leech

When you fall into my rhythm of speech

Your ears get embraced with the touch of the bass

Head get wrapped up, neck get thrown in a neck brace

Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it, who?

Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew

My objective, the way I live is kinda primitive

See, I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give

Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master

Cast to the masses, grabs the mic

Ten dollar rappers is what LOD goes after

To my squad, there's no matches, we mashes

Do photo flashes in all flavor S-classes

Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini Mac to your back

Tie you up, throw you in the 'Ac

A public figure who walks around with a jaded jigger

'Cause I gives a fuck about another ****, word up

Muddy Waters, yo, this is the way that my intro should go

Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble

Fuck with me, though, Mally G, though, it's not logic

Playin' that big shit, get broke down, microscopic

Bring it back, keep the track ringin' with the bassline

It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine?

Face the nine, I lace your spine with short fat pace

Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down

Now's the time here, yeah

Clown where, pick a spot

Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, liquor shot

Gangster, so called killin', cap peelin', playalistic

I mean, is all that shit realistic?

Play your cards, God, keep your hand held tight

Nightfall might call your life, shit is trife

On these evil streets after dark

**** gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk

New day, seriously, this whole shit's twisted as a man

It's me bombin' on these ****, shit-listed, Mally G

Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G

Hopin' to rise in thee, industry with E

The villian's at it 'cause I had it, word up, yeah

Killin' my psychosomatic pattern, rhythmatic, yeah