Lord have mercy Lord have mercy I got demons running through my slate They like to creep when my thoughts get deep Scheming, trying to find a place to fit in And manifest itself in the form of a sin If I was Rin Tin Tin I’d rip the skin off of Lassie The shit you talk is idle threatening to blast me You high on gas like a rastaman bought it Don’t set it off kid and get me started Cause you’re highly regarded when you’re dearly departed But momma’s still crying asking God why in The world could you take her only child When you was fronting on the streets like you was buckwild To keep it real kid you gots to stay humble You can’t fumble and if you gots to rumble Then word to Bryant Gumble I’m a live for today And God bless the man that steps in my way Cause if I said it somebody’s getting wetted So just keep your cool and everything’s copasetic Pull out your heater kid spit your razor And mine’ll still be the intellect that plays ya Cause when the mike check I’m high tech skills are apparent You can play the child kid I’ll play the parent Cause I’m a be responsible for your schooling But I won’t change your diapers or do your car poolin
Chorus Get up I’ll break ya down a little somethen' I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin' Dead up too many crews be frontin' I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin' Get up I’ll break ya down a little somethin' I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin' Dead up too many crews be frontin' I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin'
Lord have some mercy on my soul
Now why everybody making shit that’s unreal Cause the (ayanon) man he wants mass appeal Forgetting all about how it’s supposed to feel Kids be going out for the record deal So if you pull out the clap then bust your cap Or I’m a make like the man and drop bomb on your gat But don’t snap cause this ain’t HBO Kid you got no Benz plus you got no dough While you say that though you trying to gain that ho Used to be you had to rhyme about stuff you know I don’t need MTV to make no bucks I rock styles that make you say “Ah who dat waz?†Who that was is the man of all hours sending all star players straight back to the showers Fake hard rocks are really just cowards I master dub plates like my name’s Herb Powers I getcha open like hunting season I make papers don’t front on the reason Cause I’m seizing up every day You say carpe diem I call em like I see em
Chorus 3
Compositores: Bob Crewe (Crewe Bob S), Leor Dimant (D J Lethal), Charles James Calello (Calello Charles James) ECAD: Obra #2656095 Fonograma #10250330