Mr. Complex - J-Live, Choclair, Etcetera, and Mr. Complex Freestyle (A Long Rhyme Coming: The 1999 to 2002 Sessions Pt. 1) lyrics

[Intro: J-Live] Jingle bells. Peace, y'all, it's J-Live. Doing it up right now for my man Eddie Ill & D.L., you know'm saying? We got Doug and the Agony on the, on the boards right about now, you know'm saying? I got a little riddle for y'all. I want y'all to check this sh** out. Bust it. Ayyo [Verse 1: J-Live] Ayyo, I'm trapped in the mind of a madman literally It's not a metaphor. Kid, pay attention Reporting to you live from this first dimension In a real crowded room, I just want some attention It's pitch-black from bright like high beams at night The silence of the noise is deafening to hear My lifelong mission is to jockey for position But I can't tell if I'm in the front or the rear Formless, I don't know if I'm a circle or square Let alone solid, liquid, or air. I'm completing Myself but can't confirm or deny if I'm actually here It's quite a f**ed-up predicament, yeah I feel at home but I got to escape this paradox In a box. I'm intent to solve this mystery I'm made up of dreams and nightmares, soliloquies Dialogues, arguments, fantasies, imagery Memories, symmetry, alcohol, history Love, life, d**h, joy, remorse, and sympathy Actions, wishes, reacting, and hoping And every time a beat comes on, the door opens An out-of-nonbody, in experience, is showing me Jetting for the entrance, the exit, the outlet I'm traveling through veins, blood vessels, and muscle tissue ‘Til it goes pitch-black, and I still don't know if I'm out yet I'll wake up from the blackout, finish with the race Confined in a two-dimensional blank space Looking back on my original birth place Now taking the shape of a young black face Parts of my physical erased then replaced What was sight and sound is now feel and taste Ital and fruit punch laced with toothpaste I'm shot from a cannon with amazing grace My identity revealed with the mystery solved I see my purpose in life as I travel through time Riding the beat through audio wires, recordings, and air Waves, ears, and minds, I'm a J-Live rhyme [Verse 2: Choclair] Yo, I either come Grizzed out or pimped out. If I get twisted Bone a chick in a treehouse with just socks on Type of brother start dancing when these lights turn on I never beat around the bush ‘cause then these things go long Same song, people on, but I'm against the grain I'll stand Solitair and marvelously shock your brain You're looking corny like some cameos without no fade So you rap for enjoyment. I rap for employment It pays me and sways me, travels me and takes me Pays me weekly and gets my dick s**ed daily Your whole army? It couldn't f** with my entourage And all your hits and all your bu*ton-downs are camouflage And while you're doing shows, your boys camcord I'll be on tour, in suites, getting boned by freaks You'll be at picnics, trying to ball like you're sweet With your music loud, flossing like you ten G's a week For real, your sh**'s weak, boy. The world's mine I got you scared like you talking, “Candyman,” five times You look up in the window and reflection is mine Put my dick in your b**h while I'm back and unwind So nothing you could say could ever faze me. I'll say it again Nothing you could say could ever faze me. Say my things Twice—just in case, the first time, you didn't hear me Spunk up in your eyes so you could see the shocks clearly Nasty As I Wanna Be, a Luke fan forever And green n***as always seem to have the vendettas Well, critics on the didick, you could s** it ‘til it's spinach And girls who weren't down who see me now, well, you could quit it I guess I would be chilling, but some n***as just forget it I'm still the same kid from T-Dot, so don't forget it [Verse 3: Etcetera] Yo, it's Etcetera coming ten steps ahead of ya We said that-a, “We'll rip your whole clique, rush your competitors” Your crew's out with so few styles, but you better, uh Alert your blocks we coming like them convicted pedophiles We staying blazing and amazing like Luther up in Aruba with a [?] and six shorties doing the hula Creating flows that'll damage our foes like body blows To the left lung, causing it to collapse like them stretched tongue Who next, son? Rip the sick rhyme but can I kick mines? So hot when I spit, them pricks wan' examine my enzymes My goal is: stay in this game for three-and-change With the same aim. The brother's brain drains like hole in membranes Then bail and unveil with a label that reeks endurance ‘Til everything that me and my style copped got insurance Until then, we gon' make it hard for y'all to sit bars That are half-a**ed like cavils or moldy apples of garbage I take time in every line and, when it's all said, I write I'ma make y'all all freeze like deers in truck headlights What? [Interlude 1: Mr. Complex] Uh, uh huh. Uh huh huh, yeah. Uh huh huh, what? Eddie Ill, yeah. D.L., uh. It's Complex, yeah. Check it out, yo [Verse 4: Mr. Complex] See, I can't be getting Caught in shootouts. I got rhymes to write People to excite, flights to catch, portraits to sketch Masterpieces to piece together, concepts to create and better The earth is my oysture. I'm keeping hip hop in a Ziploc To preserve the moisture. I'm so Fresh like Doug E I'm so sk**ed out, you bug me when you tell your crew you could Take me out, I'm like, “Out like how? Out, like, with a pow? Or out with a freestyle? Well, you're off, like, a whole mile And a whole lot of kilometers, k**er.” I'm iller than Barney Fife Barney Rubble, and Barney Miller—even that purple motherf**er I'm running circles around a motherf**er. I'll wear out the gra** In your a**. Plus, my surplus will surpa** your ma** My mere crumbs'll feed your whole fam. Plus, there's leftovers Know who the f** I am? It's Complex [?] Slap your a**. My rhymes weave in and out your skin and make A stitch ‘til it's sewn, ‘til your mind is blown. Then I can Go the f** home [Outro: Mr. Complex] Like that and [?], y'all. Come on, yeah. [?], yeah. It's like that, y'all. Eddie Ill & D.L., Complex, what?