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lirik lagu in the blood – wax

[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 st–ze 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-cked your, whole sh-t up
like hiroshima go get a fork, to stick in the litter box and eat sh-t
dunny cause i’m sicker than chicken pox, and spittin’ the sh-t that rocks
and sticking my d-ck in foxy women
they like how i f-ck to the rhythm
they be like
holy sh-t the flow he spit was both cl-ssic and fat like moby d-ck
i’m totally sick, my whole clique globally thick
ride the microphone and we rip, any opponent we pick
they like
jesus christ the st–ze 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, cl-ssic gourmet b-tch
i’mma rock ’til the wheels fall off
f-ck 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
p-ss the henny and i’m so d-mn good
how a suburban white boy spit so d-mn hood
i’m just saying bruh
the flow so gutta y’all
we throw strikes while y’all throw those gutter b-lls
that’s why the ho so b-tterball
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-t 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 ear and eye catching
not to mention the fact that we never come whack
it’s just a motherf-cking 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-cker 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-t the fliest clique
is both independent and sl!ck like a private d-ck
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 d-mn t
shining a god d-mn 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 m-n-script
to make your whole f-cking 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

- wax

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