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Theory Hazit
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Peanut Butter Wolf Etiquette (feat. Playdough & LMNO)
[Verse 1:Theory Hazit]
Oh hi, it's been a while
Sorry for the wait, I was babying my inner child
Rollin' with some gospel gangstas and sinister ministers
Holier than thou like some kind of demon whisperers
I can't front: I put up a front, a facade
Color my beard up like (huh, what?!) it's odd
Play God, but I'd rather play my boombox and bump it
The knobs had shades of gray with (what?) on the buttons
But I managed to stay humble
No longer marked like a beast so some fans are disgruntled
Lost friends, lost fam, feeling like I lost an arm and a leg
And I gained a chip on my shoulder
Oh you wonder why, huh? No patience, I guess
'Well, Theo we can't hold your hands in the process'
Cool, then Kenny Fresh gave me the tools
Started my own label up with no push, he's making moves
He's so cold, he never conforms to what's hot
And with that freestyle, you're bound to get shot
And pistol whipped so hard you start seeing angels
While hanging from the balcony by your ankles
And folks think that he's been replaced by (huh, what?!)
All they do is play Contra? and hit rewind
Like 'You should kick a down south rap over some dubstep'
But the southern accent only come out when I get upset
So no more free downloads, it's back to vinyl
I'm sampling everything, Michael to Lionel
Christ-like rhymer with love for his rivals
There's nothing in this Bible that says I have to like you
I fell off for a minute, lived life trifle
I wish you woulda hung with me during the wicked cycle
But I know you can't because your reputation is at stake
Bye! (see ya)
[Verse 2: Playdough]
I never met a record advance I didn't like
But I never met a record advance in real life
And I never did a dance, never nibbled a bite
Ain't never feared, never scared, just give me a mic
Yo, do what I do, full flavor, let's go!
They said 'Get in where you fit in,' problem is that I don't
I stick out like a sore thumb [?]struggle
Yeah he saw my steez get lost in the shuffle
I know that I'm weird and that's my whole career
But it's probably the same reason that I caught they ear
Now priority sent into a few regrets
And all I get's a box of Newports and Puma sweats
Dang, if looks could kill
Padding they books, recoup in Brooks and still
Done spent a lot of time dropping dimes on the dollar sign
Wha dada dang, drop your name on the dotted line
[Verse 3: LMNO]
Homies, this a church dropout
With a smile on his face but his nerves shot out
Been a passive blasphemist, active with the gift
Give it to a [?]living with the shift
He isn't going against the grain
He's not closer to God praying flying in a plane
Dying to entertain with tumors in his brain
Nights all rumors see, don't fuel the flame
He chose a world game to leave out his name
Who woulda thunk these godly rappers are so fame?
Crusaders on the faders, led by Judah's Priest
New police gained the most two freaks from lead spokes
Tied to the bedpost, hook line and sinker the good Gospel singer
Running from temptation under God's finger where the devil lingers
Sunday through Sunday, clobbering the week
Tolerating love, slaughtering the meek
He had to leave the church to spread the Word
Preaching to the choir doesn't get you heard
Bursted out the bubble to help those in trouble
Ready and willing to always do double
Profound, not biblically sound
Cynically he turns up to turn down
Never stole the offering plate or spiked the punch
Never went for seconds for the free lunch
He left the lobby of the Gospital healed up ready for the hostile world
With the direct connect to want to intercept
Sold the fence, practiced to help protect
Against the neglect, inflicted by the wicked
This is life on trial living convicted
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