Black Spasmodic

Yo, y'all ready?
 Yo, Phife, you ready?
 Cons, you got that part right?
 I dunno but it don't matter who choose to set it off
 ATCQ, no doubt my niggas is boss
 Little half-ass rappers, y'all pissin' me off
 Time to dead 'em all off, yo, no matter the cause
 (Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre
 (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar
 (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
 (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers
 (Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre
 (Spasmodic) Who kept up a buzz the whole calendar
 (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
 (Spasmodic) Now look what he does to any challenger
 Now who want it with the Trini gladiator?
 The finger to you haters, you biters not innovators
 I take zero for granted, I honors my gift
 Champion pen game, plus I'm freestyle equipped
 You clowns be bum sauce, speak my name, it's curtains
 Hamdulillāh my crew's back to workin'
 Trash rap the dead pussy, kill the turban
 Fuck boys, sit down, shit can only get worsen
 How do you touch mic with flows uncertain?
 Speak game tribal, that flow ain't workin'
 Folks doin' items, dem vex and cursin'
 Fuck made me wanna see these niggas in person
 Third song in, muthafuckas dispersin'
 Only to realize Gana loose in the buildin'
 Big tune this for man, woman and children
 Back on my bullshit, Busta bust then we kill them
 (Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre
 (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar
 (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
 (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers
 My nigga's spirit be talkin' to me, let me explain
 Not through evil mediums, tarot cards or Ouija games
 But through mixing chords and boards and even drum machines
 He be saying, "Nigga fuck awards, keep reppin' Queens
 And don't be taking slack from these non-rapping niggas, man
 That intellectual shit you spit, you better change your plan
 Especially when you see them at the lobby of a label
 And they don't seem able to outstretch they hands and admit they fans
 You better flame 'em in the J's that they standing in
 Ostracize they memory for not remembering
 The articles reduce their body parts to particles
 And dust the Dead Sea with their cremated molecules
 I'm leaving, but nigga you still got the work to do
 I expect the best from you, I'm watching from my heaven view
 Don't disappoint me, make sure that they anoint me
 As the blue ribbon pedigree, the best of show five-foot-three
 Speak of the legacy for short people around the world
 Napoleonic bionic people who cause the world to twirl
 Rip every stage with grace, look right dead in they face
 Live the Tribe principle of havin' impeccable taste
 Enjoy that breath like that one was your last one left
 If you don't believe me, Tip, there's truly life after death
 So refer to the Biggie covers and shoutout my Trini brothers
 And please check in on my mother," Malik Izaak, call me shorty
 (Black) They don't make thugs of this calibre
 (Spasmodic) Who kept up the buzz the whole calendar
 (Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
 (Spasmodic) Used to keep guns with the silencers
 (Black)
 (Spasmodic)