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lirik lagu brand new heavy freestyle – def jef

[verse 1]

those who chose to be foes drop like dominos
one by one, big name pros become john does
manila had a thriller
but i get iller than jacob k!ller
miller drill a hole in your body
using soul as a filler, until another rapper jumps up
gave the crowd free reeboks, and you still didn’t pump them up
you need the poet with more soul than doctor scholl’s
instead of battling walk barefoot over hot coals
who owns the title?
show me the man sitting next to the man
sitting next to the man
sitting next to the gah d*mn man
i plan to whip ‘em
take his belt and strip ‘em
and for being a good sport, i flip ‘em a quarter to tip ‘em
hip ‘em; i’m black gold from mother earth
me taking the loss
is like seeing a brother surf
rare, yeah, you think i’m dope?
don’t sleep on erick
when you compare authentic to generic
you say the flavor units gotta be real, like cheryl lynn
show you how to swing it like errol flynn
so what you’re saying is dead
your style, your whole crew is softer than wet bread
the baddest men in town ain’t leroy brown
he stuck his d*ck in a donut and still couldn’t f*ck around
pound for pound
it sounds too immense
it would make no sense
the consequences be too intense, huh
i make heavy statements you make thin points
i’m puffin a fat hootie mack
and you’re struggling through a pin joint
wait a minute while i put the funk back in it
and people get ready cuz it’s brand new and heavy
[instrumental interlude]

[verse 2]

when i brainstorm, it’s thunder and lighting
and the whole 9
emcees that run up bounce back cuz i hold mine
why would you think i would jump i’m not a toad hops
i heard you’ve been running sh*t, but this is where the road stops
a stone wall on the microphone
y’all swing to a voice that rings like a telephone
call because i’m dope
emcees tried to take a hit and pass the glass to a fiend
but yo, i’ll break your sh*t in half
like a breadstick
money hold your head
quick duck before you’re stuck in the hospital bed
sick or worse, in a coma, for smelling the aroma
of flavor, but you inhaled too quick; it was ammonia
i burned your sinus, i burned your sight, and destroyed your brain
making your skull null and void
holding zero content, your raps carry no pounds and have no rounds
you know howi sloppy
your flow sounds, you’re off sync
go get a soft drink and think up new rhymes
but you waste time and a lot of ink
you say sh*t so booty that your breath stinks
i got a style so deep that the pen sinks
into the paper like quicksand
so if you come and leave with long sleeves
and have tricks planned
cause man to man
man, your styles are primitive
you’re short on rhymes, and your vocab’s limited
my styles broader you’re sure to order more to go
you ain’t hip to the flow
act like you know
but i don’t think you’re ready for a poet with soul
with the freestyle that’s brand new and heavy
[outro]

you know?
1991 onto the ‘92 and ‘93 and so forth and so on
know what i’m sayin’?
i ain’t sleepin’
emcee’s is creepin’
but it’s cool cause i got my back, know what i’m sayin’?
erick vaan in the house
soul brothers in the house
and the brand new heavies is definitely in the house
know what i’m saying? and yo
i’m out like james brown, take us home heavy…

- def jef

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