Krumb Snatcha]
I see myself as the black Rap Messiah
Colossal spreadin my gospel through electrical wires
Spit fire through speech, so I can reach each and every
Tom Dick and Jerry slippin like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't rhyme tight
I got divine right to bring y'all to light
Somethin ain't right, to be an MC, you gotta thug
Or to thug you gotta be an MC, this shit is bugged
Show love but few; deal with crew and crew only
And think universal like Sony
Phony pounds and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza Hut I got to stay Noyd-ed
Cause that same nigga you trust, could be that same cat
behind that gat that bust, quiet ya, with the silencer
Keep it hush, ashes to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who pull out the fastest, imagine this
rap shit without this gat shit, or the phony cat
in black talkin bout how much his Mac spit
But this year, GangStarr got changes bein made
No wack shit bein played no fake macks gettin paid
No Versace MC's, with a mouth full of Mo'
Soundin like a hoe spittin that old-fashioned show flow
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap through a Maxwell
Ever since young Krumb, was taught to rap well
Goin deep, process of thought, when my eyes closes
Awaken with interpretive robe and sandals like Moses
Travellin high sands and Eastern lands for the answers
Ignorance is spreadin through the streets like it was cancer
Too many drinkin not thinkin, when behind that trigger
A 38 escalate the murder rate, for us niggaz
it's like, microphone roulette cause nowadays MC's is gettin wet
over someone else's fake gangsta rep
fuck this mess.
