(No Ratings Yet)Never heard of Prose? Hibernation. Time to wake up-. Specialists in that boom bap rap, Steady & Efeks have long been tearing up stages as well as my speakers. This is Track 20 (that’s right… 20!) of their latest offering “The…
VERSE 1:
- Fe-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a fraudulent one,
- Only gun you drawn is with a pad and a pencil,
- I’m top 5 bredder; we’re live, quintessential,
- You’re inconsequential, on instrumentals,
- You lied – only record that you hold is dental,
- I rap with miraculous force,
- With fangs drawn from Dracula’s jaws,
- Couldn’t bite my vernacular,
- I’m spectacular jacking with a spatula,
- Backhand slap giver,
- Action bat figure,
- You ain’t killers blood,
- I hang with tarantulas,
- Silver-back ?,
- And orangutan slang spitters,
- Vietnang in this concrete jungle,
- Gorilla/guerilla warfare; I got the art from Sun Tzu,
- The ever-flowing entity, I blow eventually,
- Grow exponentially, till the Lord sends for me.
CHORUS:
X2
- Fe-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a fraudulent one,
- Welcome to the abattoir; fakes get bunned,
- You could lose your lifeline by a slip of the tongue.
VERSE 2:
- We repping it correct, getting messy on the set,
- ? I’m jamming with Steady & Efeks,
- Bury any heads that are jealous of the flex,
- Leave them trembling, remembering to never step again,
- Prose on the track, boom to the bap,
- To the future and back, few will attack,
- Don’t try it! We get the honeys screaming out loud like Rocco,
- We OGs smashing up the city like Robbo,
- Ferocious quotes, corrosive to the unfocused,
- Plague and hocus, grazing on the hopeless,
- We all city and the real heads are all with me,
- Walk with me, you’ll learn the Lords are adoring me,
- Born to be, storming free, whack rappers abort the scene,
- Forgery, frauds are weak,
- So don’t step to the Prose and O Suds,
- You get munched quicker than dirty pigs’ dough buns.
CHORUS
VERSE 3:- A hundred bars I’m spitting,
- In the stars like Nas has written,
- I’ll be jumpstart, this art, my spark,
- Scar your vision, eliminate the dark; my mission,
- Your pop is looking puzzled while the part is missing,
- All the class is missing,
- I’m betting that your pad’s blank,
- They rap wank, chat back, you get ransacked,
- There’s no chance, the flow’s large, we go hard,
- ? get burnt up like old grass,
- This is MC Murder, with every verse I disperse,
- A chainsaw, burst in the dome,
- Making your brain poor,
- You’re in my abattoir, regretting what you came for,
- Sautee and season your beef while I remain raw,
- They couldn’t fathom what they saw,
- Thinking they rave more,
- A straight, bate force we stay more,
- Thoroughbred, too many on the fronting flex,
- My troubled head reveals the realness,
- You should ? instead,
- Pathological hobbit,
- Back representing it,
- With magnum force my release is never tentative,
- Duck down, I pop rounds of lyrical munitions,
- Can’t fuck with the sound, pipe down and listen,
CHORUS
OUTRO- Welcome to the abattoir.
- Prose.
- Dark Side Of The Boom
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