Don't Front (feat. Buckshot)

Used to get bent, now I represent to the fullest Pencil is full of insolent bullets I'm like a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rott' Mixed with a toxic, the plot begins to thicken I begin to spittin' like vintage Pac Demented, demonic, sinister Ever since the Doc' replenished me The day he gave me that shot when I was just about to quit So to not see him with me would be a shockin' image And I'm the definition of what a concrete chin is 'Cause no matter how many times you sock me in it And knock me to the canvas, even the boxin' critics Know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish Eat me broccoli, spinach, cocky? Nope But I hope I offended you when I told ya how dope I am at This and put emphasis on the "dope" So when names come up, in that conversation of who's the dopest, better throw mine in it And don't mind me, while I remind you of the flow You won't find anywhere When it fires and I unload, my pen explodes 'Til there's no rhymes in it, reload in no time Let insults fly every 60 seconds that go by, so you know I meant it In school I was so shy, timid Two pairs of jeans I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I 'member Beggin' my mom for K-Mart MacGregors 'Cause those were new, St. Vincent de Paul Those Pony's were used, and no size fitted But kissed them old days, adiós, I did it They said I was a gimmick Now I'm the one that those guys mimic Now you fuckers don't wanna go startin' no argument 'Cause you know I'll win it Name a flow that's more authentic, and don't front Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, word Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Yo, why you frontin'? You know I got you open, kid Rest in peace to Big Proof You was a beast, you lyrically mirrored me Molded my flow off of you, your spirit's flowin' through me I love you, Doody, without you I feel so incomplete I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my feet I'm a thorn in your side, get thrown into a throne Better watch the fuckin' tone that you speak Feel like I'm in the zone, I'm in a whole different league On my motherfuckin' own, it's just me No opponents can compete And I've never been known to retreat From beef, be beat, follow trends or wallow in defeat I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't even say "Bon appétit!" 'Cause I don't know what to eat Fuckin' microphone or the beat Bitch, nobody's mind works like mine It's nose to the grindstone time, holmes, your mind's blown 'Cause I rhyme like I'm still tryna get signed Up in the Ebony Show-case With Denaun screamin' "Who the fuck passed you the mic?" Never asked you like my shit from the get I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass, bitch You had you a nice run, now take a hike I ever meet my match, I'ma strike that bitch first 'Cause on the mic I gotta represent the real rappers The real rappers get their mothafuckin' skills crackin' Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the fuck not? You don't like it? Suck a cock! Almost forgot Before I signed with the Doc, I almost signed with Duck Down! 'Cause Rawkus didn't make no offers, so mothafuck Loud They jerked me around, so what's up now? Wow, how much of an asshole would I sound like Rubbin' it in and holdin' some grudge now? But don't front Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, word Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Don't front, you know I got you open, kid Yo, why you frontin'? You know I got you open, kid Late at night, used to catch a buzz, couldn't write Now I write the type of shit to make you wipe But wear diapers, 'cause you might leave a streak I'm on a streak, windshield wipers couldn't wipe It's hard to decipher what cypher I might jump in tonight 'Cause I'm hyper or somethin' Needin' someone or somethin' is lightin' This fire under me, it's breathin' new life It's like I already died once I guess some people only live twice, and it's funny My days of being broke were so long ago I lost all concept of money But you dimes won't get a fuckin' nickle from me Oh shit, I'm down on one knee I'm havin' a stroke of genius—Elizabeth, I'm comin' to you, honey From boy to man And still make a whore moan, like a thyroid gland I'm in another category, man Don't group me up with them pop stars I never needed a pat on the back to get at a boy, band No offense? Yes offense Precedents has been set that'll never get met Middle finger pressed against Moby's nose Shouts to Obie, the curtains closed on my show But never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it You can't take it, oh Got a whole generation of rappers comin' up That are nutty with the flow, but convince me you've heard An MC since me who's as good with the fuckin' mincing of words Without mincing words that'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve Who's mentally disturbed You might as well stick a knife in me and turn It'll be like my skin bein' Indian burned Hah, bitch, there isn't one, when will you learn? Never been served, if memory serves I'd battle that 'til my own recollection remembers these words You know I got you open kid, stop frontin' You know I got you open, Word Life...