Wax - In the Blood lyrics

[Wax] Cats try to pigeonhole my written flow but didn't know My spittin' so orginal that it cannot be bitten or forgotten Hip Hop's Johnny Rotten Got the bed that your mommy got in Suicidal kamikaze plotting your murder story in purgatory The burning glory of my weeds unmatched indeed Locked to the brain and got latched and keyed Back from the dead with hot tracks you need You spot Wax's steeze on the top of the trees It's hogging up all of the shine from these other emcees The people in my neighborhood can't get their water to freeze Because my presence got their fridges at a hundred degrees I be the, conductor that done f**ed your, whole sh** up Like Hiroshima go get a fork, to stick in the litter box and eat sh** Dunny cause I'm sicker than chicken pox, and spittin' the sh** that rocks And sticking my dick in foxy women They like how I f** to the rhythm They be like Holy sh** the flow he spit was both cla**ic and fat like moby dick I'm totally sick, my whole clique globally thick Ride the microphone and we rip, any opponent we pick They like Jesus Christ the steeze is nice It's both dark and powerful like Condoleeza Rice Emcees get diced, chopped up to pieces with mics Then I add a little spit for some season and spice And saute it for twenty minutes then I eat it with rice And that's Wax's forte dish, cla**ic gourmet b**h I'mma rock 'til the wheels fall off f** that, I'mma rock 'til you ears fall off I used to rock so easily Back in the days of Run DMC When they was like Dum diddy dum diddy diddy dum dum I said one fifty one rum in the city slum I'm a gritty bum Yes, a B-More all-star Natty Boh' with the hole in the wall ball Pa** the henny and I'm so damn good How a suburban white boy spit so damn hood I'm just saying bruh The flow so gutta y'all We throw strikes while y'all throw those gutter balls That's why the ho so bu*terball Got your girl all up in the lab rocking no clothes but her bra Yes, and the flow don't stop You should photoshop my face on a robocop I'm so hot robotic rhyme I ain't gotta sign on the dotted line To prove that your sh** ain't as hot as mine Bottom line is that we are the truth You need proof, witness me and Herbal T in the booth We just bouncing, and stretching And it's oh so air and I cash in Not to mention the fact that we never come whack It's just a motherf**ing family tradition [Herbal T] Yes it's true bro Few flow, better than the veteran duo Compare us to H2O People saying "where did you move yo?" From the east to the wild wild west like Kool Moe Dee, Herbal T be breaking you down, making you bow To the kings of this motherf**er taking the crown Gimme a, rake and a plow and a couple of seeds In a couple of months, we gon' roll a couple of trees And get, high as sh** the fliest clique Is both independent and slick like a private dick Straight pillaging your village in a pirate ship Them guys is sick, make you catch a virus quick 'til you hu- Lucinate them dudes is great They both on top and legendary like Medusa's snakes And like her, I'll turn you stone with one line Literally make you rock to the way that I rhyme It's like, steadily gettin' incredibly spittin' Whenever we hittin' the studio we never be slippin' Cleverly written material, readily sippin' Imperial Stout, by Samuel Smith, the man the myth, the legend is me Herbal god damn T Shining a god damn light so everybody can see You the phoniest punk, spittin' erroneous junk While I create melodies like Thelonious Monk Only a skunk could compare to the funk of the flow when I'm spittin' Hit you quick then like I'm dunking a donut I'm dippin' Straight flip with the man*script To make your whole f**ing clique just abandon ship Like Geronimo, toppling you like a domino Treat emcees like detainees at Guantanamo Torture 'em interrogate 'em Force 'em in the barricade And cover 'em in gas and then I scorch 'em when I serenade 'em Pour a little marinade on top of the steaks While DJ's keep my records all on top of the crates Stopping the fakes Girls on the dance floor say "Yo Herbal what's the T stand for?" Well The textbook talented track terrorist tomahawk Type of technique to teach tricks to Tony Hawk Trash talkers try to test the technology Tempted to traverse toxic topography I'm trouble, like treacherous trails The torpedo taking out twinkled-toed tattle tales Two takes max when I tape tracks Tricks tactics is tiny like tic-tacs Torrential like tornadoes and twisters I transmit transcripts through my transistor Trap tricks like toads in terrariums The tip-top terminator totalitarian