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Real Eyes

Quasimoto

(My words burn through your exterior)
(They eat away at your interior I'm superior)

You're talking loud but saying nothing for the dollars
You better off quitting, start working blue collar
Lord quas up in the place slapping out y'all phonies
Y'all niggas is played like pimp sessions with tenderonis
When y'all suckers gonna learn how this rap shit goes
I hate it when the fake nigga try to doze
Rap about his clothes and fakes ass stories and hoes
Or how he shot up his rival foes
Like I ain't heard that story befo'
I had it up to here with the black on black
Cos that shit is worse than a klan attack
Some niggas brain lack
Common sense, common knowledge and confidence
We trying to put the stop to your wack incompetence

Once we come through ain't no stopping this
Once we come through ain't no stopping this
I roll through like rahsaan roland kirk
So niggas better be alert when I insert
You better...

(Real eyes)
(You better realize)
(Ain't tolerating blatant disrespect for this artform)
(You disobeyed the laws, got no cause to kill for)

Y'all dummies should have learned after self destruction
Sucking negativity like a human suction
Quasimoto crew bring the eruption
So what's up when, we release the verbal dumping
Y'all talking loud plus y'all saying nothing
You're trying to wild out like david ruffin
Oh, them some niggas let the money control the soul
And flip their goals, and end up in holes
Some niggas is using this artform like jazz music
It don't matter to some rappers, they just want to make the money
Try to clock figures, we trying to climb ladders
You talking about pulling triggers, talking 'bout your life don't matter
But we roll through see we're quasimoto auxiliary
Lord quas, father of invention, you mention we
The beat konducta hit you like high consciousness
Niggas feeling envy when they be watching us

(So what the deal is dude think you got a little confused)
(Real eyes)
(You better realize)
(Tired of niggas flopping, they ain't hip they just hopping)
(From one... Style to the next)
(Niggas want checks but need to check themselves)
(It happened for the love of the game)

Composição: Madlib





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