The Grouch - War Games lyrics

[Verse 1 - PSC] I know where the music came from, I ain't a lame dumb-dumb Origin is respected but still we choose to come original Down from my walk to my talkin' Heads be out to please the king Christopher Walken A city with fly lingo and bad a** latinas Got heads on this side biting styles still unequal Unless you a**imilate you never considered great Demonstrate speech from your birth place you can't race Disgraced by false handshakes, these punk rap dudes Talk behind our back but they don't want the feud A few of them seen the ads y'all helped us pay for Now they say what's up in the club What the f** who*e Listen up b**h, you diss because you can't see Born in California, rappin' NYC Influence is golden but when mics is holding I roll with the oath to spit what's never stolen It keeps us out the mix shows and the tape decks of 64's Because we in the middle, we strangers to the riddle For DJs who play this the bravest get propers But most won't even touch this unless we sign to Rawkus [Verse 2 - The Grouch] I met you twice before and shook your hand You didn't feel it Did it for the cap but should have acted like I'd peel it Now I'm in the corner on the burner in the back Caught between the trunk bump and the motherf**ing boom bap Bring the tune back You're craps in the chop shop Thermometer up your a** That's the reason that I'm not hot But I got a fever times three for every CD Bound to be the missing link For those who want to meet me at the crossing I'll be the one semi-flossing With mega self-respect but a void to go with that Cause he's employed to act like he doesn't see the free man Oops that's too much credit, I bet it isn't the plan Freak of nature, I'm the stranger, you're bad with names bra Change your views, I'm giving clues Strangest news you're about to lose Blame them fools who got the tools [Verse 3 - Eligh] I'd never consider moving out When it comes to the coast I'm dwelling on Hell if I ever switch up the weather To fit what these other fellas are on I cause a renaissance Renovating creativeness on this side of the coast Self-hatred, radio stations They play their sh** while they brag and they boast It's not about toe tagging with a rag and a magnum It's all about respect Caught in the middle without a clue Legendary originality here to battle the fallacy Here to put it down with my crew Actually I'm open to any option, except belly flopping Over a sloppy copy of a Primo track, that's a fact Action taken by middlemen While you fiddle with pens and pronouns Trying to pronounce like your pro-eastern affiliate When I affiliate my style with the golden state While you're holding hate, claiming to hold weight Now, once you've walked in these boots Doing a format like that is so fake You're a dormant doormat Wearing a who*es hat With a horrible imitation of what you consider great When that's only a bite Your eyes are bigger than your stomach So when you plummet into the darkness We'll be rising into the light [VErse 4 - Aesop] I'm anti, but I'm not anti-social You can feel it through my soul My presence through my vocals How the f** they got fans Man them n***as only local b**h we chase down the mic And put you rhymes in a chokehold I'm a pro bro, comin' fresh ain't a problem so Legends' got sk**s Cause we're always evolvin' And involvin' our self in the life of our fans Revolvin' around them like the earth on its axis And neva payin' no taxes man Firm in my shoes where I stand Or a stranger to this land With my choice of words I gain respect and proceed They say if you don't succeed try, try again my friend Ya must make words blend within the beat then Make it a part of this world, make your mark on this earth For what it's worth, evade the demons while they lurk In the envy of the jerks bi-coastal who smirk At the talent and the balance that shine in our work The s**as love to hate us and these girls love to flirt Stranger to the under ground, ya neva dug the dirt True we blowin' up fool and it hurts to be you Still tryin' to sound like them, just to make it through