lyrics
‘For The Masses ('Mass Appeal' REMIX)’
It's time to spit a lil' somethin' that the masses feel
I need that mass appeal, gimme that Cassius feel
Type of flow be my sig/SIG, like I'm flashin' steel
Hopped on this Gang Starr beat, got the past to kill
R.I.P. to Guru though, I got old-fashioned skill
Hard to get inside my heart, I got a bastion built
{-} I'm broke but still dope, so let my passion spill
God blessed me wit' this talent, I didn't ask for skill
How I fashion my lines? Real intricate, ingenious
You not askin' for Fine? You idiots just inconvenience
If I ain't smashin' wit' lines, {-} I listen to the meanest
Rappers that can design frigid lyrics off in my genus
When yo' vocab is different, they see you as a pariah
If you drab wit' the spittin', then they see you as flyer
{-} In my lab I be rippin' on those who preach to the choir
An' steady grabbin' up nitwits who live to leech off ya' fire
{-} Heh, yeah, this ain't never been a hobby
I'm more or less a GZA, I ain't never been a Bobby
An' it's no disrespect {-} intended to RZA
I'm a emcee at heart, my production ain't killer
See I'm addicted to women, I'm addicted to sneakers
Addicted - to kickin' bars, shop my lyrics to FIFA
'Cause I be goin' in - like Mohamed Salah
When it come to the bars, I'm second comin' of Ra
They pro'lly want me to stop, but I'm never gonna quit
Lyrically incontinent, no way I'm never gonna shit
I'm sayin', issa reflex -- forever goin' in
On the real, I should be next, much better wit' the pen
Back in high school, they used to laugh at my bars
But now this Memphis nigga work magic like Anfernee Hard
An' niggaz so baloney, King Cotton on the track
I truly belong in Harlem, twilled cotton on my back
Old School young nigga, skill poppin' on the track
Go to school, son niggaz, still got 'em, that's a fact
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