- Lyrics
- Album list
Emcee Erin Emily
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The Marshall Arts (Debut Single)
I da' King Beast, haters please,
I wear da' crown
No badder beast be bestin me, none around
I be rappin but yo' lips just flappin,
You just makin sound
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I take yo' sheep shit down
Leave yo' body on tha ground
Cuz rap today only got that sheep shit sound
But that not the way ah tha BEAST
I come ta' take it away, from all tha SHEEP
I come ta' bring it back ta', how it sposed ta' BE
I'll come like raa, all claw, all TEETH,
I a cheetah and even if you cheat
you're never catching up to me
I a beast!
Yeah I be beast-mode, beastin'
you be sloth-mode, sleepin'
Fuckin' Sleepin'
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Been told I gotta a flow like damn
but a voice like Fran
Dreshure, gonna make it work though, ok,
no pressure
But, Yessir, dez lyrics so complex,
like stairs were for Escher
Go so well like I be Godel,
hound outta hell,
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An' I never do it partial, when I do my part,
Cuz I a student of tha Marshall art.
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My words are, no plan ah FDR,
but dey da' New Deal,
take a knee, kneel
to da', new rulah
comin ta' bring
dem sheep-peep
back ta' schoolah,
smack yo' wrist wit a ruler
no day off, for dis flock,
no Ferris Buehler,
if you think saying less is cooler,
raa, I come ta' say fuck yaw,
naw, you just part ah
dem sheep peep, sayin baa,
yo' ass be cattle,
I ratta tat, but yo' shit jus rattle,
I gonna mount yo' ass, bare-track,
an ride ya with no saddle,
my flow throw ya asses up shit-creek,
with no paddle,
Got da' rap-gift, so I gift rap-it,
Like it chris-mis (christmas),
I be givin so much bis-nis (business),
to ah hearse wit my verse,
ery body stopped tryin', and dis genre gettin worse
cuz I nevah grind ta' put papah in mah purse,
Nevah stop at good enuff, dats my curse,
Gonna put ya in-ah box, pine, wit my grind, but first
Can we get a rhyme in dem lines, so few n so terse
Cuz, you not rappin, shit,
you be rapein', music,
What you write not rap, bitch,
You jus crap shit,
So I give ya ass a stitch,
tah stop tha crappin, look how it took
a Honkey bitch, ta' get back ta' rappin!
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An I never do it partial, when I do my part,
Cuz I a student of tha Marshall art.
_____________________
Till my verse on fire
burn dis like a furnace
dis page gonna blaze, gettah flame,
fuck a sheep in dis game
dat do it so simplistic
see my lines come so ballistic
Lyrically artistic and heuristic
an they have da' nerve to complain,
Go on an try to make it rain,
can't put out dis fire,
cuz I was born in da' briar,
an I jump in da' game
like it be a pile ah leaves u been rakin,
mix it, beat it, walk it, like dis be ah cake-an',
you gonna fill-it, when I fry ya in da' skillet,
Got egg on yo' face, and scrambled cuz I beat it
An I heat it, like I be cookin bacon,
think u can repeat it, no fakein'
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
well let's hear it then, I'm waitin
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cuz yo' jus full of da' bull,
lazy or jus dumb I can't be sure,
but shit, bull,
Like in da' runnin, ah da' bull
Cuz to me it matter more, bitch
I da' matador
to yo' — bull run, son
you need wings to keep up,
man,
Okay try some Bull, Red,
an',
let's get ready to, bull, rum
again
You just fulla red, rum,
then,
and that's bull shit,
friend.
You fallin down now, take-in,
a tum-bull (tumble),
Ball droppin like, bull aftah fum,,
Fum like aftah, fee fie foe, fool,
I da' beast an I come wearin
da' sheep, wool.
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I so fully wooly,
So wooly I be ma'am-moth (mammoth),
no ma'am, jus moth
I fly da' night,
but I, no butterfly,
cuz from da' start, start-ah
leavin you wit No Exit - Sarte, Sartrah,
yes ma'am, I moth, Mothra.
Cuz you know my mantra, only go contra-
-band, taunt-ya like I be, Moth-Man,
murda like I Mothra, an
I take a pilla den for rilla, pillage yo' villa
no zilla can dillah wit dis skillah,
I a god on dis beat, I be Neitzche
da' god-killah
Sign on da' dotted line an silla da' dilla
I bringin da' warfare so un-fair, guerrilla,
dis battle be won, son, soon as it done begun,
it's good as done, hon (Hun), I Atilla!
I take a pilla den for rilla, pillage yo' villa
no zilla can dillah wit dis skillah.
I a god on dis beat, I be Neitzche
da' god-killah
Sign on da' dotted line an silla da' dilla
I bringin da' warfare so un-fair, guerrilla,
dis battle be won son, soon as it done begun,
aw, it's good as done, hon (Hun), I Atilla!
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Bitches, beware
Cuz sheep gonna be, getting scarce,
And Wolfie's gonna be, gettin fattah,
I'm pitchin now, so swing battah battah,
Not yet a mastah, but I learn fastah an' fastah,
It be tha craft-ah, rhyme,
that I'm aftah, so I take time
Oh no, here I-climb,
on my soap-box,
'fore all hope-lost, for hip-hop,
Not on my watch!
Naw, on—no—watch—of—mine.
Fuck it, if I be preachin, fine.
Jus call me tha rap pastah,
Cuz a fuckin sermon comin at-cha:
From the start, this shit has-ta',
come from the heart, and last-ah,
I church-you, bout rap-virtue, an serve you,
Wit dis serv-ice,
like a meal in four courses,
86 a,
an-serve my rap-verses, a-la-carte,
An I never do it partial, when I do my part,
Cuz I a student of tha Marshall art.
An if this be preachy,
Well, fuck it, we can't all be Weezy.
How can it be 'goin hard' if it be that easy?
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I be here to enforce, a new course, for all rappers
write, rhyme, repeat, til it lathers
Call this Marshall Law,
Brought to you,
Rappin' still...
Mathers.
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