Mark the 45 King - Hands of Fate lyrics

(Ooh What you say Come on) My deejay is dope, def, real d**h-defyin Competators, get with mental def tryin The number one candidate, his hands'll make Dancers dance, he possess the hands of fate He'll scratch a record that will stand Out from the rest that's def, and he'll jam Anywhere at any given time and thrill fans Totally blindfold his cuts will still slam Harder than the average, make a savage kid Nervous, the perfect combination had to get Funkier than funk itself, now haven't you heard He sharpens his claws for damagin a nerd Just with the power, plus time to mutilate You can't escape, don't even try to retaliate Cee Just, do that sh**, they thought you slipped They didn't know that you were smoother than Cool Whip Now prove it to em ( *cuts* ) scratch Pull it back ( *cuts* ) yeah, I like that Energetic, enthusiastic Cuts are drastic, knowledge the tactics Faster than a centipede. and all that he need Is two tables and a crossfader to make the record bleed Deejay of the year, got the number one candidate And he possess the hands of fate (Disc jock) (Come on) Deejays left to right throw in their white flags The way that he scratch you think the record had crashed Back and forth, forth and back as he'll attack The turntable, that's why he's labelled an acrobat You need to resign or take a spring break First you was hard, now you're soft like a ice cream cake Try to compete with the elite is a silly stunt He'll smoke the crossfader like a Philly blunt Manifest sk**s on the wheels of steel The one-man band never ran, and he never will He's a hitman, who's gonna be the next hit? You wanna battle, you better bring your best sh** Courage, heart, balls, cuts After all that you still get crushed like a wall nut Damn, the brother's nice, I make em do a quicker slice Sendin em toy deejays back to Fisher Price Hard to categorize or an*lyze The way that he scratch leave deejays paralyzed Crisp and clean like a fully loaded magazine The track is mean, he's prepared to rag a teen Deejay Cee Just, he cuts, you couldn't beat us Even if you were to cheat us Stun ya, make you wonder how can he make A record rag so much, he got the hands of fate (He's Cee Just) Sharper than a straight blade are my rhyme sk**s They attack with the impact of a minefield And I ain't even started to get loose yet Turn up your Alpine, e.q. your gooseneck Ladies say "aw!", fellas say "ho!" Prepare to undergo Lyrical surgery, you're gonna get hit, slayed Rhymes'll crack your spine and bust your rib cage I can't calculate the rappers I take out Before the battle is through, most of them break out I never lose, I aim to win I'm just a rebel, k**in like a Devil Tasmanian To take a deejay out is a bear task Who's def, he'll make you lose your breath like tear gas Just, cut it up, cold smash the break Show the people you possess the hands of fate