Tunnel Vision

Chorus

I been rhyming for a long time son
It’s the wrong time son
Think you gone play with bad daddy number one

Young emcees without the juice in they jock
Claim they running hip-hop
But they not!

I been rhyming for a long-time son
It’s the wrong time son
Think you gone play with bad daddy number one

Ya’ll emcees, yo, you best be listening
My style you can't see, it’s like tunnel vision

Verse 1

The nubile from the south
The old school wit’ new clout
We play ya like the legislative pork barrel, phat out
Fuck the dogs,
You be wondering who put the cat out
Hitcha homey like a Louisville slugger, put the bat out
Frauds they be claiming they running game and clocking fame and
But they dropping my name and lines be lame and
I keep the verbal flaming
Aim’em and tame’em, we collecting they payment
Emcees got to slay them, at ReapALife we make the statement
But they never learn they lesson
Why these busters coming testing?
‘Bout to feel the real oppression
Roulette with the Smith and Wesson
So don’t play stop it, with my profit, when I kick the fucking topic
Twenty plus years on the mike, I can’t ever drop it
The King with the diamond rings, and jewels and tools
Send these suckers to school
And make’em all look like fools
I’m the president, never lyrically hesitant
Don’t respond to impediment
Grab ya mike and yo stage and come wit’ better shit

Verse 2

I’m dope like coke, but can’t be smoked, you gots no hope
When I be bless the mike, I’m clean like Scope
And U be chasing like the Don Quixote
Wind spinning yo way
Driven by the hot air flows, the shit that you say
But I pronounce yo reign over, the edge like Range Rover
That tip when emcees slip, talk shit and drove off
I’m bigger than ya
Roman emperor like Caligula
Kind of, sort of particular
Bend yo ass perpendicular
Stepping to Da Reapa wit’ yo whack ass crew
Is like watching the champ against the handicapped on pay per view
A brief contest, it be a first round knockout
‘Cause most of ya’ll punks don’t even know what you talk about
So think 'fore you speak over 808 beat
And mess wit’ Da Reapa that earned his on streets
Yes, I be Da Reapa
Yes, I got the knife
That’s A-T-L, dirty, dirty, dirty for life!

(C) 2004 Nikitah Imani (DP Da Reapa)