Emile Haynie - Swave Sevah, Kwest Tha Madd Lad, and Percee P Freestyle (A Long Rhyme Coming: The 1999 to 2002 Sessions Pt. 1) lyrics

[Intro: Swave Sevah] Yeah, yeah, lacing this track one time for my man Eddie Ill & D.L. Yeah, it's Cvees and Swave Sevah. I'm coming at ya, got my sh** together. Yo, yo, 2G like this. Yo, yo, yo [Verse 1: Swave Sevah] I keep asking myself this question that I'm having Problem-solving: why, when emcees see me, they stop bragging? Could it be that they know already Swave Sevah is deadly? Integrity, aggressively as success for the gang longevity Better show respect for anyone who decide their destiny And all that trying to step to me is really not affecting me But peep the recipe. The chef emcee is slicing and sautéing Seasoning, cooking, and burning those n***as disobeying Not feeling what I'm saying, so I guess I Got to tell the tale of the maniac microphone molester Deliberately, I'll spark more wizardry than Uncle Fester And take the liberty to battle rappers for whatever But, still, I'll get one who say they don't have to taste the entrée But it seems like n***as always want to learn the hard way So when I boost up, be prepared to throw your dukes up I'm sick of you acting like you tough when you're a fruit cup Call your clique, you'll be a dead man before your troops come The members of my fam will kindly dismiss the rude one Prone from flipping and domes splitting like lobotomies My lyrical colony will turn your d**h threats to apologies My mic is like a lethal contraption, so think Hard before y'all a**es all end up eternally relaxing It's my turn, let the track blend. You'll get burned When the wax spin, but you must learn what you slacking And I'm here to demonstrate the way my rhymes eliminate Penetrate your chest, make you do breath of hyperventilate Verbally making some people and nerves incinerate f**ing with Cvees, kid, you'll get served like dinner plates Just like that [Interlude 1: Kwest Tha Madd Lad] Uh, just like that. Mmm. Kwest, Queens. Uh. What? [Verse 2: Kwest Tha Madd Lad] Check my last a**-whipping recipient I'll rip sh** lickety–split. My liquidy spit Quickly hits. What I sputter's bu*ter like Skippy or Jif More spliffs make more skits come at ma** acceleration Causing ma**ive celebration as my a** excels the spaceship When my mind warms and finds focus, I'll swarm like locusts On fields of wheat. The weak feel the heat and see who the jokers are My raps get so graphic like bashing brains with hatchets My tactics will cause a racket once you crack open my packet I'll separate spines from minds when intertwined with rhymes Sit Fox fast when I blast sh**—I'm way ahead of your time Climbing on clouds, styling, disemboweling gods with howling Throw the towel in when I kick like sick sounds from Shaolin Aw shoot. I thought you knew. I also won't say, “Who?” when you mention me Been holding these technices in for centuries. I'll mention these Wack rappers like blacks should do back of the crackers Plus, my hit'll smack up rappers counting backwards. When I attack words I'm invisible. In my physical, I'm indivisible Like nations under God. Make you wonder: God, is He real or fiction? The diction kicks in, causing friction like a backspin My erratic actions cut you to a fraction. On instrumentals I'll use my intricate mental sort of like a pencil Stenciling out simple sentences and leaving temples dimpled Your a** is in a casket, asking for aspirin. You're sweet Your beast keep it saccharine, she'll blast it masculine [Interlude 2: Percee P] Uh, uh. Uh, uh, uh. Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh. Supply the checks [Verse 3: Percee P] Known from Cali, Chi to LAX. My respect and styles Some try to get, but die direct from the side effects You crave Perc' ‘cause I'm well-equipped with predicate You're too delicate for this fellow—flip, kid, you'd better get saved first Call freaks—pretty, no flawed feet, all sweet—small peeks 'Cause my Stocks Exchanged, they're Wall-Street-stealer-slick Kicking the illest hits. Who k** us quick When our building spit more rounds than Bruce Willis flicks? Ideas and flow raise eyelids—that's why kids make hybrid Rhymes supplied with stuff this guy did years ago To grasp a taste, have to place ‘em in a gla** or case And observe from a NASA space center with a mask on face Sharp as machete blades. Swear to God Only card you will pull is Medicaid. Remain clean I clean teams that became fiends, strange [?] Go through vein streams, leave gangrene. My name rings bells Sick of you. sh** you do is predictable. Kick a few On your cut like a ritual. Piece words incredible Some said I do sound like a clever few that's poetical Theoretical—nah, kid, you better do research Thousand short, files in court said I reproduce So many from my styles, I'm fought for child support Better sh**, I'm clever with stuff fighters never did, except it gets Hot like a beverage. Those that never hit need leverage